


Charades

by Bardwich



Category: Victoria (TV)
Genre: Charades, Coming Out, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Games, Kissing, Light Bondage, Love, Love Confession, M/M, Nervousness, Not Canon Compliant, One Night Stand, Roleplay, Romance, Secret Relationships, Secret Sleepovers, Sexual Tension, Sneaking Around, They do it, allusions to blindfolding and gagging, drinking but you kind of see why, experimenting, hookup, includes kinky shit, nobody dies nobody is sad, period accurate biased sex ed assumptions, pillowtalk, tbf so am I, there's a slap and it's sexual, there's sex, twice, vague allusions to suicidal thoughts, yeah we went up a rating at Chapter 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:54:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26273668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bardwich/pseuds/Bardwich
Summary: Alfred and Edward finish a game of charades in private.
Relationships: Albert of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha/Victoria of the United Kingdom (1819-1901), Edward Drummond (1792-1843)/Alfred Paget (1816-1888), Ernest II Duke of Saxe-Coburg and Gotha/Harriet Sutherland-Leveson-Gower Duchess of Sutherland
Comments: 44
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just wrote this up spontaneously. The idea was too sweet not to share with you. Love, fluff, and more love.

Prince Albert sat down with an embarrassed smile at his wife. He didn’t quite catch the point of these silly games but Victoria was smiling so brightly, he didn’t truly mind ridiculing himself for the sake of acting out the discovery of America.

Miss Coke reached into the bowl on the coffee table and herself was brought to a radiant smile.

‘You are next, Lord Alfred!’ she announced.

Alfred smirked and raised his eyebrows. He was somewhat surprised to be called upon when he had been so lost in admiring Mr Drummond’s profile against the firelight. Nevertheless, he finished the last sip of his port and jumped up, ready for the challenge.

He reached into another bowl, which was full of little notes. He read the one chance selected for him and bit back a smile so as not to give it away. He pocketed the paper and positioned himself on the open carpet in the half-circle of plush sofas and armchairs and began.

Alas, beyond holding up three fingers, he was stumped about how to proceed.

‘You’re not throwing in the towel already, are you, Lord Alfred?’ the Duchess of Sutherland asked with a bit of cheek.

He shot her a secret look. How she came alive when Prince Ernst was in the room! And how rapidly she fluttered her fan… Alfred could not very well chastise her for that at this moment, though. He had a task. And with a spark of brilliance, he saw just how he would deliver.

‘Ah, I require a partner for this one,’ he announced, slowly pasting the circle until his gaze landed on the target. ‘Drummond? How about it?’

Drummond nearly choked on his own wine.

‘I told you, I was not playing.’

‘Balderdash, Mr Drummond!’ Victoria piped up immediately. ‘We are all playing, no exceptions.’

The chap felt conflicted. One didn’t say no to the Queen.

‘Up you stand, sir,’ Ernst urged him even as he himself was languidly reclined against the back of his seat. ‘To refuse would be tantamount to treason.’

‘It is exactly treason!’ Victoria jested.

‘I shan’t bite,’ Alfred promised, bringing Drummond to a blush.

There was nothing else to it but for him to stand, which was greeted by a round of applause indeed, which already mortified him. He really hoped Sir Robert would not get wind of his performance, came tomorrow!

Drummond stood on the carpet, facing the audience first, then Alfred laid his hands on him to turn him sideways, right over his heart that seemed to skip a beat at his friend’s touch. His touch – this was allowed, after all, within the game. Who knew what else was?

He didn’t have to wait long to find out as Alfred looked him in the eye rather wickedly and flat out grabbed his hand and waist to start swaying with him in a dance step!

‘No, wait—’ Alfred stopped, only to tear off his necktie and tie it around his eyes.

He resumed their dance, and though Drummond was extremely alarmed, he went along with it, to everyone’s cheering and amusement.

Alfred adjusted his tie so he could sneak a peek at his dance partner and Drummond stumbled on nothing on the carpet. Alfred’s breathy, melodious laugh was a dram more intoxicating than the wine in the decanter.

All too soon, once the point was got across, Alfred let go of him and indicated something with his hand.

‘Later on,’ Miss Coke guessed.

‘YES!’ Alfred rejoiced.

‘Shh, no words!’

‘Sorry!’ Alfred said, with a word, and then actually shut up.

He took his frock coat off and heaved it upon one of his shoulders. Then, he grabbed an iron from its basket by the fireplace and stuffed one into Drummond’s hand as well. He raised his in a fencing motion, and once his friend caught on, they began the sword fight.

‘Is this a play?’ someone guessed.

‘Tragedy or comedy?’

‘Shakespeare?’

At that, Alfred discarded his current props excitedly and switched to another scene. He knelt at Drummond’s feet, climbing up with devotion to kiss his hand and flail dramatically. The ladies nearly screeched from the laughter.

‘He really ought to be on stage!’ Albert muttered, hiding his eyes despite chuckling. Him, chuckling? That was the mark of just how hysterical Alfred’s performance was.

‘It must be a comedy, then…’ Harriet guessed.

‘I wish I could tell you, duchess, but I do not know myself!’ Drummond stuttered somehow, finding himself alarmed more than ever because of this display of affection. His brain knew it was just for show, for the game, but his heart…

Alfred jumped up, tutting, scratching his head until an idea came to him. He whispered into Drummond’s ear covertly only this:

‘Be my Romeo.’

‘Wh-what!?’ Drummond uttered, bewildered but giggling.

‘Do as I said!’ Alfred whispered, adding a wink. He then grabbed his port glass, drank the last drop left in it, and pretended to have died on the carpet.

Drummond was lost. He knew what he had to do but should he!? He felt a kick on his ankle and got to work at last.

He knelt by the seemingly lifeless body of Alfred, his “Juliet”, displaying sorrow and heartbreak and love. One of those, he did not have to fake, not even a little.

‘Ohh, he’s good,’ Harriet remarked, hoping to break Alfred but his eyes remained resolutely closed. He was in character.

Meanwhile, Drummond acted it out to the best of his ability. It occurred to him that this was his chance. He had, after all, danced with Alfred right in front of the queen and was not reprimanded for it. Quite the opposite, he made her majesty spill her drink from the laughter. He leaned close to Alfred, but in the end, not for the audience but for his own sake, dared not follow through. He touched his thumb against Alfred’s lips, frowned at the dryness of his skin, then turned to his port glass in desperation and drank the “poison” that took him out. He lay dead on the carpet as well.

At that, and the reverent gasps of the spectators (except Ernst, who just chuckled), Alfred came to. After a theatrical display of shock and grief, Alfred drove a stoking iron through the gap between his ribs and his arm and fell dead upon Drummond’s body.

Applause woke them up. Both men were laughing so much as they helped each other up that they were nearly brought to tears.

‘Just to be clear, it WAS Romeo and Juliet, was it not?’ Harriet volunteered to ask.

‘Let us take a bow and collect our praises before you collect your victory,’ Alfred tutted, though Drummond had long resettled in his armchair, in which he seemed to want to sink so deeply he would vanish from view.

‘I was still the first to actually say it,’ the duchess insisted.

‘God, you’re so competitive!’

‘You always come first in every room,’ Ernst flirted to her, and that made her lose her voice alright.

Alfred shot Drummond a covert look, hoping to find sympathy – the duchess and the prince’s unrequited love story was starting to wear everyone down so – but Drummond’s eyes told another story. Alfred sat down, and for the rest of the evening, he was more interested in the clock than the game.

Normally, lovebirds around him secretly irritated him but tonight he was glad of Victoria and Albert’s romance because an early night was called. Goodbyes were said and he pretended to retire upstairs. Only, he took a different turn and snuck outside until he found the stables. He freed his Horace, got a straggling stable boy to fetch his saddle, and rode out the gates before long.

The lights were still on in the downstairs room when he arrived. He tied his horse to the railings of the crisp white townhouse and knocked.

A manservant opened the door.

‘Good evening, sir,’ he said uncertainly. After all, Alfred had never been here.

‘Lord Alfred, for Mr Drummond, if I may.’

‘Lord Alfred?!’ Drummond came to the front door as if he couldn’t believe his ears. He was already in his pyjamas, dressing gown, and slippers, and he had a book in his hand. Alfred guessed at the gilded spine. Romeo and Juliet.

‘May I come in?’ Alfred asked.

The manservant let him in, took his coat, and hat, and took care to take the horse round to the mews. Meanwhile, Alfred followed Drummond into the drawing room.

‘I hope you don’t mind me coming here,’ Alfred began.

‘Not at all,’ Drummond replied, offering him a seat. ‘Only, I am surprised.’

‘Not as surprised as during the game of charades.’

Drummond couldn’t bite back a grin fully, although nor could Alfred.

‘I just had to come to tell you that I do hope I did not alarm you. Well, not more than what is part of the fun, that is. I am sorry if I embarrassed you or… pushed you into things you weren’t ready for.’

Drummond seemed to understand the serious undertone to Alfred’s words even if he attempted to keep it light. They had known each other for quite some time, they had been at the edge of this on several occasions. Something always kept them apart. No more, Alfred’s heart cried, and Drummond’s seemed to hear it because he did not laugh or make fun of him or anything of the sort.

‘I am only sorry I could not be quite up to the mark.’

‘Nonsense, you were a marvellous acting partner, Drummond.’

‘But not quite as brave as I think you wished me to be, Alfred,’ Edward said, forgetting the formality of the title.

Alfred observed him for long moments, debating it in his head. But then, they were quite alone, and he felt it was safe. He knew what he wanted. He only had to offer to know what Drummond did.

‘You are right,’ he said carefully. ‘We did not have a chance to do the last scene proper justice, as the Bard wrote it. I fear we would have risked turning our audience against ourselves, had we _fully_ committed to it. Perhaps we could amend it now. With no one to see.’

‘L-Lord Alfred?’

Alfred licked his lips and forced himself to follow through. He placed a cushion against the armrest and lay on the couch, with his eyes closed, as peaceful as an angel, waiting for Drummond to act or not to act. That was the question.

Would he?

The silence was torturous. Alfred so wanted to open his eyes and look. But he didn’t want to scare him off either. If Drummond was gathering his courage, he would gladly will himself to remain unmoving and accept his fate. If Drummond was repulsed by the idea, then Alfred wished he would have hurried up and said so.

And the silence stretched out, the grandfather clock’s every strike drove knife after knife of worry into Alfred’s heart. _Will he or won’t he?_

And just as Alfred was about to give up and face his humiliation, embarrassment, and disappointment…

… he felt Drummond’s lips on his.

Far from pretending to play his part, Alfred opened his eyes and met Edward's honest, loving gaze.

'Thus with a kiss I come alive,' he whispered and Alfred smiled and kissed back gladly.

The charade was over.


	2. If You'll Have Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are heating up and Alfred scores an invitation for a sleepover.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told myself I would leave the first chapter at that, but then I couldn't help thinking about how this would have actually played out. My dislike of cutting away at a first kiss won over my love of a tidy ending. I am adding a couple more chapters, therefore, to explore themes of identity and relief, desire and propriety, and how to navigate something for which there are no rules.
> 
> Particularly if one is Edward Drummond, who never even copied someone's homework at school.

Minutes passed and they were still kissing. In fact, Edward had had no idea kissing could be like this.

Alfred’s lips alone were so warm and soft and heavenly it sent Edward’s brain into a whirlwind. The steadier he leaned on the couch, over Alfred, who was tugging on his collar and pulling him closer by the nape of his neck, the dizzier he felt. And then, her felt the tip of his tongue, tentatively at first, and he was too busy feeling strangely ashamed or scandalised or excited or all of these at the same time to protest and he let it happen and got the hang of it sooner or later.

Yet more affectingly, even with closed eyes, he could tell Alfred was smiling into their kisses. And he wondered how he had ever had the self-restraint beforehand to resist such a creation as the man in his arms.

The front door opened and shut. By the time the manservant came in, they had fled apart.

‘Can I be of service, sir?’ the servant asked tentatively. He knew his duties but Mr Drummond was as stiff as a board, as red as an apple, and as startled as he had never seen him. As for the guest, he was lying on the couch for some reason.

‘No, thank you, Wood,’ Edward replied with a moment’s hesitation.

‘I took the horse around to the mews.’

‘What horse? Oh. Yes. Very good. Thank you.’

‘Is his lordship alright, sir?’

‘Wh—his, uh—why…’

‘I am perfectly fine, thank you,’ Alfred cut in, his voice as smooth and languid as his kisses were. ‘I did have a bit of a turn earlier, hence why I put my feet up. I should be myself in a minute, I am certain.’

‘Shall I bring the horse around?’ the servant offered. ‘Or perhaps a little later?’

Alfred sat up before Edward could stammer anything to skew his plans:

‘Why, no, alas, it is much too late for me to ride across town again, and I cannot possibly be such an imposition on you, and when you have just secured dear, old Horace in the mews…’

‘Shall I ready a room, then, m’lord?’ the servant asked, looking at Drummond again for definite orders.

Edward’s lips, though wet with kisses just a minute before, were dry as all the consequences of his next word flashed across his mind’s eye. Between his servant’s tired eyes, and Alfred’s cunningly chosen words, however, he could not come to any other decision.

‘Yes,’ he said as inconspicuously as he could muster. ‘It appears a guest room is required. The, uh, Oriental will do.’

‘Oh, but, sir, the fireplace has still not been seen to in there. Perhaps the blue room instead? The bed is made up.’

Why was a protest on Edward’s lips but no clever excuse in his muddled mind?

‘Right. Yes. The blue room, then,’ he replied, kicking himself mentally.

‘Very good, sir. Shall I fetch dinner or…’

‘No, thank you. We’ll manage from here. You can turn in for the night, Wood, just see to the room being suitable for Lord Alfred on your way up.’

‘Very good, sir. Good night, sir. M’lord.’

The manservant had left and Drummond still stood where he was, rooted to the spot. His heart was beating far too fast for this hour. What had he done? The realisation was sinking in, slowly but surely.

When he heard his name it was with hesitation that he came out of his reverie. When he looked up, Lord Alfred was still reclined languidly on the couch, obviously a lot more comfortable with the situation and their dangerous privacy than the host of the house.

‘I hope that was not too presumptuous of me. It _is_ woefully late…’ Lord Alfred said in deep, dulcet tones to match the gaze with which he was observing Edward.

Edward managed a nod and a half-hearted shrug. He was so careful not to seem encouraging. The fact of the matter was that he had somehow found himself given the opportunity, not once, tonight to be alone with Lord Alfred in his own home, with ample privacy to do whatever they pleased, and they had already taken the irreversible step of kissing. Who knows what else Alfred expected of him? The way he had wangled an overnight stay in this house before Edward could really understand what was happening was almost alarming to Edward, who had never dared to ask. Turned out, he didn’t need to. And now there they were: alone, cards on the table, and the whole night ahead of them. This was madness, madness!

‘Drummond? Really, are you alright?’

Edward took a step forward…

…and diverted his path so that he passed the couch and went to the window to close the shutters.

Alfred popped up over the back of the couch.

‘Drummond… Edward… do you regret it already?’ he asked sadly.

Edward turned around sharply.

‘The happiest evening of my life? No! Never.’

‘Well, then, why so alarmed?’ Alfred insisted, hopping over the couch to approach Edward. He stepped right up close to him, intimately enough to play with his collar, and even closer. ‘As I said, I shan’t bite. Unless,’ he added, whispering in his ear, ‘you find it to your liking…’

Edward’s breath hitched as Alfred’s kiss turned into a soft nibbling of his earlobe. He flinched, and Alfred pulled away, rather hurt.

‘You, uh, you do know I don’t mean to twist your arm, don’t you?’ Alfred asked seriously.

Edward gulped. ‘I do know that, only the fact that we are even having this discussion is too enormous to wrap my head around. All I know is, one moment we were playing a game, the next I am acting lovers with you and then I came home and I didn’t expect… any of this. Any of… of you.’

Alfred smiled. ‘What did you think? That I simply give lingering glances to all my friends and colleagues?’

‘I suppose I just imagined this would always remain the stuff of my dreams,’ Edward admitted, feeling small.

Alfred, however, was glowing with warmth at that.

‘I have dreamed of this for a long time, also. I am as nervous as you.’

Edward scoffed in disbelief.

‘I am! Well, perhaps not quite as nervous but I mean it, my darling. I wouldn’t want to do anything that spoils this. May I… may I get a kiss, at least?’

Edward smiled bashfully. How could he say no to that?

Because they had got over the first kisses, Alfred’s lips already felt like coming home and Edward’s composure slipped as he melted into it. How could he go on with his life now that he knew what it was like to taste Heaven? And when Alfred brushed his nose against his, he knew he could scarcely live without more such nights.

‘Is this making you happy?’ Alfred asked him sweetly.

‘I feel… _relieved_.’

As Edward said it, it washed over him twice as acutely and Alfred could see the pain of someone much older in those young, intelligent eyes of his. Edward was glad of everything he had ever done that landed him there, in Alfred’s arms, but also mourned for the confused boy he used to be that didn’t know that the answers to his questions were not on the pages of his beloved books, nor indeed in the world’s most extensive encyclopaedias, but on the lips of another man.

Alfred’s warm palms were soothing on Edward’s neck.

‘I know,’ he said from the bottom of his heart and pressed his forehead against Edward’s. ‘You are alright now. This is real. You are exactly the person you were meant to be.’

He wondered what journey brought his love to him.

Alfred had had his fair share of lovers and equally as many heartbreaks and so he sensed that there was something unblemished about Edward, who was unspoiled by the nastiness of the world and yet possessed a kind of wisdom about himself that a lot of people never arrive to even if they live a hundred years.

This man was alive.

Alive in his arms, alive with a heart that beat with love, with blood that coursed that love through every vein and every pore and Alfred felt the urge to kiss it all, to taste life on Edward’s exposed neck, bare ankles, and everything in between.

‘Why don’t you show me where my room is, and then where I shall sleep tonight?’

Edward frowned in confusion at that, thinking he heard wrong. Before he realised what Alfred meant, that he had no intention of sleeping apart, he was being pulled towards the staircase by the hand.

‘Alfred…’

‘Come…’

‘Shh, we can’t…’

‘Well then stop resisting and lead the way!’

Edward stopped on the landing, straightened his attire, passed by Alfred with dignity, and inclined for him to follow. They arrived at a door upstairs.

‘This is yours. That,’ Edward pointed to the next door down the hallway, ‘is mine. Bathroom is between them.’

A glint sparked in Alfred’s eyes.

‘You mean our rooms are connected by a bathroom?’ he asked suggestively, and Edward gulped.

‘The idea is that we knock.’

‘Ahem, of course… I shall say goodnight, then,’ Alfred said airily, kissed Edward’s cheek and swiftly slipped into his room.

‘No, Alfred, if what you’re thinking is—damn,’ Edward swore and hurried down the corridor to his room before Alfred could trick him.

Alas—or perhaps most delightfully—by the time Edward stepped into his bedroom, Alfred was sprawled comfortably on his bed, arms on the pillows, one knee pulled up, a cheeky smile on his beautiful face. He had even had time to kick off his shoes, his coat, and his tie.

Edward leaned back against his door with a thud.

‘I must say, your room is nearly twice as big as mine in the Palace!’ Alfred quipped. ‘I shall remember to visit yours more frequently. If you’ll have me.’

‘Is that what you fancy, Lord Alfred? The luxury?’

Alfred smirked conspiratorially. ‘Do join me, Drummond,’ he said. ‘Throw off that robe, make yourself at home.’

Edward kept his robe on but he locked his door with a key and a shaking hand and slowly stepped to the bed.

‘You have made your point, Lord Alfred. I am sufficiently flustered. Now, please…’

‘Oh, of course,’ Alfred said accommodatingly and scooted over. ‘Why, what’s wrong, would you prefer the other side?’

Edward rubbed his face with both hands. He must have been dreaming.

‘I meant you should rest in your own room,’ he suggested, knowing Alfred understood despite playing with him.

‘Would you prefer to sleep there?’

‘No, but I think _you_ must.’

‘Says who?’

‘Propriety …I think.’

‘Come, Drummond, given the rules of the world, I believe we passed the limits of propriety the second you first gave me light on the balcony.’

Edward went red. He would not deny that he was already flirting there, even though he hadn’t fully understood why yet. Now he knew that it was in the hopes that he would one day kiss Alfred and find him in his bed but now that he had these, he realised just how lost he was and how inexperienced and frankly, scared.

‘Forgive me,’ Alfred said, sitting up, thinking he hit a nerve. ‘I only meant to tease you kindly. I jest, you see. Of course, if you would prefer for me to leave, I will.’

Since Edward was still standing awkwardly by his bed, Alfred got up and went to collect his clothes.

‘I don’t want you to leave,’ Edward finally said, making Alfred turn around from the bathroom door.

‘Really?’

‘Really, of course, really, Alfred. How could I sleep a wink knowing you are in arm’s reach? But… Make allowances for me, please. I am new to this. The course of this night cannot lead to anything but my mortification and making a fool of myself. I haven’t… done anything. Ever. Until tonight, I had not kissed a soul. Go on, laugh.’

Alfred dropped his clothes on the carpet and stepped around the bed to Edward.

‘I am not laughing,’ he said and kissed Edward, putting all his love into it.


	3. Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting heated in more than one way as the night progresses. An interruption and an alarming possibility spark an argument. Will its heat spoil the evening or feed the pyre of passion?

Alfred could have gladly kissed Edward for all eternity and forgotten about the rest of the world. It was his fault, though, that they broke apart, for he giggled.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, embarrassed.

‘Am I doing it wrong?’ Edward asked at once in a panic.

Alfred cracked up even more. ‘Goodness, no!’ he said eagerly. ‘Far from it. It’s…’

He had to steal another kiss for lack of words, reassuring Edward rather a lot.

‘That’s what made me laugh,’ Alfred then said cheekily. ‘You expect me to believe that you have never kissed anyone before?’

‘Well, I have not. Truly.’

‘I mean, I _supposed_ you wouldn’t have kissed a man properly but, surely…’

‘Surely what?’

‘Well, women.’

Edward shook his head.

‘Come, Edward! Stop jesting! You must have hopeful mothers throwing their unmarried daughters at you whenever you step out the door. Or themselves, come to think of it—I know a lady or two who would, who incidentally always happen to have rather dashing manservants...’

‘They can throw, I am not catching.’

Alfred cracked up again, glad to hear that.

‘Albeit,’ Edward added, ‘Florence swears I kissed her once behind my grandmama’s rose bushes when we were children, but I don’t recall it.’

‘Florence?’ Alfred asked, his laugh subsiding somewhat.

That’s when a knock sounded from the door. They froze.

‘Expecting someone?’ Alfred demanded.

‘That’ll just be Charlotte.’

‘Charlotte? Florence? Edward!?’

‘This is just my sister.’

‘You live with your sister?’

‘Shh!’

‘Well, whoever it is, tell them to go away. I want you to get this robe off at last. Amongst other things.’

Edward’s breath hitched as he looked down and noticed only now that Alfred had somehow managed to untie his dressing robe and pop open a button on his nightshirt revealing his chiselled chest and more. When did that happen?

‘Edward?’ interrupted a young woman’s voice from the hallway.

Edward let out a frustrated breath.

‘Yes, Charlotte?’ he replied.

‘Are you sleeping?’

Edward cursed mentally. If he just hadn’t answered, she would have gone away.

‘Apparently, I am not,’ he said instead, slipping out of a rather frustrated Alfred’s arms and towards the door. ‘What is it?’

‘Sorry, I didn’t hear you get in,’ Charlotte said. ‘I thought you wanted to hear how today went.’

‘Today?’ Edward asked distractedly.

‘You know. I went to the academy.’

‘Oh, was that today?’ Edward asked with genuine interest but Alfred, partly out of indignation, took off his waistcoat and unbuttoned several of his shirt buttons, revealing more of his alabaster skin and fair chest hair that Edward so longed to touch, so he changed course. ‘Right, yes, Charlotte, I am so curious to hear all about how you got on, but can it not wait until the morning, please?’

Silence.

‘Charlotte?’

‘It’s just that… I just thought I’d ask if… May I come in?’

At that second, Alfred unbuttoned his elegant evening breeches and let them fall on the floor.

‘Yes!’ Edward heard himself say.

The latch rattled.

‘I mean, NO,’ he quickly corrected himself to Charlotte on the other side of the suspiciously locked door.

‘Alright. Never mind, then. Goodnight.’

Alfred threw away his culottes as well and made himself comfortable on the bed. Edward, however, was torn between Alfred, half undressed, in his bed— _Lord Alfred was half undressed in his bed!!!_ —and his sister’s obviously defeated voice.

He cursed his sense of honour and tied his robe.

‘Edward!?’ Alfred demanded, feeling betrayed.

‘I’m sorry, I shan’t be a second,’ Edward whispered. ‘She’s not been well. I had better…’

He stepped out to the corridor searching for her silhouette in the dark.

‘Charlotte?’ he called after her, then jumped when he nearly bumped into her. ‘Why didn’t you bring a candle?’

She shrugged.

‘Did it go that bad?’ he asked, judging by that and her wild, curly hair that looked like she had been napping all day again. Paired with her pale skin and grey nightclothes, she looked like a ghost.

However, her eyes lit up and there was a hint of a smile on her usually grim face.

‘As a matter of fact, I got in,’ she said gladly.

‘What—really?’

‘Well, one professor said he would give me private lessons.’

‘Private, like Lord Ashcroft’s offer?’

‘God, no. At least I hope not. Sir Reg is happily married and pushing eighty. I am to go to the academy every Wednesday afternoon. There you go. You have an artist in the family.’

‘Oh, but, Charlotte, that’s splendid, splendid news!’

She groaned.

‘Well, isn’t it?’ he asked.

‘It would if Mama and Papa weren’t coming here in the morning. They sent a note to that effect earlier.’

‘Uh-oh.’

‘Uh-oh, indeed. I think they are spying on me again.’

Edward felt his blood run cold.

‘Spying!? Again?’

‘Don’t worry,’ she said, surprised at him. ‘This time, I haven’t done anything unseemly. We are hiding nothing improper in this house.’

Edward gave a weak laugh, thinking about Alfred dressed down to his underthings in his bedroom. If their parents had sent people to watch them again, they’ll have seen Lord Alfred come in and _stay in_. He eyed his door at the other end of the corridor with worry and longing.

‘Had a fun night out?’ she inquired.

In spite of his worries, Edward couldn’t help breaking out in a wide, toothy grin.

‘That good? Goodness me! What do they put in the soup at the Palace? Every time you come back from there, you seem like a changed person. If I didn’t know better…’ she trailed away rather mysteriously. ‘Anyway, goodnight. Can I at least expect your support in the morning, when Mama and Papa’s wrath will likely be unleashed on this ungrateful child of theirs who wants more from life than a rich husband?’

‘Naturally,’ Edward promised hastily, eager to slip away. ‘Night, then.’

She uttered “Night!” to thin air for her brother retired swiftly.

When he stepped into his bedroom, he found Alfred exploring. He had a sneaking suspicion that Alfred had gone through his wardrobe and his bookshelf before arriving at his desk that was basking in the moonlight, and so was he, so beautifully there should be songs about him. Edward was usually angry at anyone who touched his carefully organised pens and papers, but he could never be mad at Alfred. It also occurred to him that he didn’t want to lose him, not so soon, not ever.

‘No, don’t,’ he warned. ‘Move!’

‘Excuse me?’ Alfred responded rather crossly.

‘I mean, perhaps it might be advisory to step away from the window,’ Edward explained more articulately. He quickly went there to close the shutters he had forgotten about.

‘Is everything alright?’ Alfred asked, sensing a troubled energy in Edward. ‘You said your sister hasn’t been well.’

‘She is fine, thank you,’ Edward reassured him, and then fell into an awkward silence.

Alfred leaned against the desk. ‘You can ask me to leave, you know,’ he said quietly. ‘I shan’t be offended.’

‘But I don’t want you to leave! I thought that was obvious… _shockingly_ obvious earlier.’

Alfred bit back a smirk.

‘Yes, I was aware of _that_ ,’ he said with a wink.

He found it sweet, how Edward thought it was the pinnacle of impropriety that Alfred had felt his bulging enthusiasm through his nightshirt before, while they were kissing. Alas, that was that precisely that made Alfred doubt this night after all.

‘I am afraid I have been more insistent than propriety demands—our own version of it, at least, if there is one, and I think there could be. It was never my intention to pressure you, Drummond. My only defence is that I have a reaction to you that I find difficult to control, and I think so do you but not quite as readily, despite what your body says, which I respect. Perhaps this is too fast. Perhaps I ought to return to the Palace after all.’

‘No, you cannot leave.’

‘Excuse me?’ Alfred started at that firm tone. ‘I’d like to think you’ll miss me, but, Drummond…’

‘What happened to “Edward”?’

Alfred smiled.

‘Very well, Edward,’ he allowed. ‘But I ought to go at any rate.’

‘Please, don’t, Alfred,’ Edward pleaded, taking Alfred’s hand and kissing his knuckles romantically. ‘Above all, I would miss you terribly, terribly much. But even if you found you wanted to leave, which… do you?’

‘I should like to get back into your bed without interruptions this time, to tell you the honest and shameless truth,’ Alfred confessed in a breathy voice.

Edward flushed all over again. ‘…right, yes, well, uh… We can. We… yes.’

‘You haven’t finished your sentence.’

‘Haven’t I?’

‘No, you have not. Your “above all” sounds terribly flattering. I wonder what is _below_ ,’ Alfred teased, daringly tugging at Edward’s robe’s belt. ‘Even if I wanted to leave…?’

‘Oh,’ Edward remembered. ‘Well, you cannot be seen leaving this house in the middle of the night.’

‘Oh, Edward, who would see me? And anyway, I am a gentleman paying a call on a friend. I could be coming from the theatre at this hour. I am free to do as I please.’

‘Trust me, it would be less dangerous to stay. In fact, perhaps you should leave through the mews in the morning to avoid detection.’

‘Goodness, how exciting you make it sound! I feel as if I were in a novel about espionage.’

Edward bit his bottom lip and Alfred didn’t feel like teasing anymore.

‘You know, Edward, whenever you do that, you worry me endlessly. Speak, please, speak. With words. What ails you, my Romeo?’ Alfred purred to Edward, rubbing their noses together.

Edward groaned weakly. ‘There is a chance this house is being watched,’ he confessed.

Alfred froze and let go of Edward as if he had been burnt.

‘WHAT!?’

‘Shhh!! My sister will hear.’

‘Then, elaborate, please! _Now_.’

‘It’s my parents—my sister has these fancies of wanting to remain unmarried and becoming an artist and making friends with people my parents don’t approve of. So, they have her watched by a private investigator. Sometimes.’

‘Tonight?’

‘Well, they did today on her outing, so, there is a chance—’

Alfred left Edward’s arms in a hurry to gather his clothes off the floor.

‘Where are my braces? WHERE are my braces?’

‘Stop, Alfred, I did not mean to alarm you.’

‘Alarm me? Who is alarmed? Is that door locked?’

Edward realised he had forgotten it and rushed over there to turn the key. Alfred huffed in disbelief and began to put on his stockings, hopping around the room.

‘I am surprised at you, Edward. You let me invite myself into your bedroom, then you leave me high and dry for a chat with your sister, and now you’re telling me we are being spied on by some… some… Whatever is going on, it is best I left.’

‘No, wait, Alfred,’ Edward protested desperately, grabbing Alfred’s other stocking, for which he lounged over the bed.

‘Give that back to me, Drummond,’ Alfred demanded, stomping over the bed and following him around the room. ‘Give me back my stocking!’

‘Not until you listen to me,’ Edward replied, holding the stocking hostage.

Alfred stopped and stood with arms crossed at the foot of the bed, in an unbuttoned shirt, a pair of knee-length silk underpants, and one stocking on, but every bit as authoritative as if he had been decked out in his bright red military uniform.

‘Well? What have you to say? Have you any idea how much trouble we could get into if this spy saw us? Or heard us? Or called your papa’s precious police on us?’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Edward asked, confused.

Alfred was more surprised at his own words, stammering nonsense.

‘I… I m-mean… I just… I wasn’t… um… that is to say…’

‘My father’s police? My father is in banking. You know, Drummond’s Bank, you might have heard of it or perhaps walked past it in Trafalgar Square? It’s hard to miss.’

‘I know. I know perfectly well, my darling.’

‘Did you mean to refer to Sir Robert? The Met police is his creation.’

Alfred gulped. ‘Might have.’

‘He is my superior, Alfred, not my father.’

‘I do know that, it was just a slip of the tongue.’

‘Seems an awfully odd slip.’

‘I was just being silly. You must not pay any attention to me, now, come and kiss me or I shall die.’

‘What about the spy?’

Alfred shrugged, contradicting his panic just a minute before.

‘The doors are locked, the shutters are closed. We’ll be quiet and leave no trace,’ he said airily.

‘I still think it’s strange that you said—’

‘I might have been friends with Sir Robert’s son once upon a blue moon, that’s all. Now, come here…’

Alfred kicked off his drooping stocking and gave Edward bedroom eyes but he was hardly convinced.

‘Which son?’

Alfred fidgeted uncomfortably under the inquisitive gaze and Edward’s jaw dropped.

‘Not Captain William Peel, that infamous scoundrel whose name is only thrown around at the clubs in reference to their blacklists?’

‘You’ve met him, then.’

‘I have not, and I am not sure I would want to. I have heard enough about him from respectable gentlemen to want to stay away from him. Goodness gracious!’ Edward suddenly started, brandishing the stocking around. ‘Friends? Do you mean… You were _lovers_ with that man? You were? Wh-when, wh-why, wh—but… How many others have there been?’

‘Excuse me?’

‘You know my count. It’s only fair I should ask.’

‘You can ask. I am a gentleman and shan’t answer.’

‘A gentleman wouldn’t want to sit next to William Peel at the dining table, let alone _befriend_ him.’

‘You’re the one tailing his father everywhere even though he would love to see men like us hanged.’

‘Hanged? What do you mean?’

‘You are a man of law, Drummond, be a bright boy and work it out.’

It took a few seconds for the Private Secretary to understand, but when he did...

‘Oh… Oh! You and Captain Peel…Did that!?’

‘You know, Edward, darling, I know you are audaciously wealthy but that was even more RICH COMING FROM YOU,’ Alfred retorted indicating the room around them and their state of undress. ‘Will you tell on me to your father—I MEAN William’s father. Damn.’

Edward gulped. ‘I… I… I still want to know—’

‘Who’s Florence?’ Alfred cut in.

‘What?’

‘You know about Will now. Who is this Florence you may or may not have kissed in the bushes?’

‘That’s completely different.’

‘Don’t you point my stocking at me, Edward Drummond!’

A creak sounded from the landing in the hallway and they both fell silent at once. The heat of the argument hardly subsided, however, even in hushed tones.

‘Florence is a family friend. Not _that_ kind of a friend as your _friends_ , Lord Alfred.’

‘I see. A family friend that always happens to sit next to you at dinner and no doubt you have danced with her behind my back all this time. Well, I say, she’ll be in for a disappointment!’ Alfred said with a laugh.

Edward was not laughing. He really wasn’t. And nor was Alfred now.

‘Edward?’

‘I shall disappoint a great many people, make no mistake. I could never feel what I feel for you for my fiancé.’

‘F-f-fiancé!? By God, Edward, a-are you engaged?’

‘I am as good as!’ Edward lamented miserably.

‘Are you or are you not? The line between the two is not hard to discern. It is a very definite one.’

‘It’s not official but it’s what everyone wants.’

‘Everyone?’

‘Everyone, my parents, her parents, Sir Robert…’

‘UGH, SIR ROBERT AGAIN!’

‘Really, Alfred, you’ve always been civil to him—’

‘And you? What do you want?’

‘What do you think?’ Edward seethed, gesturing to the pair of them. He discarded the stocking and tried to walk off his frustration to no avail. ‘But it is what it is. It’s always been _understood_ that it would happen one day and now that we are of marriageable age, that day might be any day.’

Alfred was awash with dread and familiar heartache. Not this, not again, not Drummond.

‘You’ve never told me any of this,’ he said quietly. ‘Not that I am entitled to be privy to your private life, but, Edward…’

Alfred slumped against a bedpost at the foot of the bed clutching his heart.

‘I’m sorry, Alfred, truly. I didn’t think it important to bring up.’

‘Not important? Because this is just an indiscretion, an unimportant dalliance before you tie the knot and start married life?’

Edward stepped close to him eagerly. ‘Not important enough to risk spoiling our friendship. I so worried I would. And now I have,’ he nearly sobbed.

‘Is this about money?’ Alfred then pried straightforwardly.

‘What makes you think so?’

‘Because I can bail you out, you know. Whatever the sum.’

Edward nearly laughed. ‘That will not be necessary, but that’s kind.’

‘Well, I can hardly think of anything else to make sense of it!’ Alfred snapped, standing up straight in front of Edward. ‘You are a well-established gentleman with a fortune probably larger than mine and a respectable position. You have no enemies, political or otherwise, and from the way you speak and the way you _kiss_ , I imagine your affections are not split between myself and this Florence.’

‘No. Don’t think me a cad—though you apparently don’t turn your nose up at the type—I care deeply about her, but I know now more certainly than ever that I could never…’

‘Love her?’ Alfred challenged.

Edward bit his bottom lip and nodded.

‘You’ll only marry her. Hurray for me.’

‘Well, forgive me for thinking the way I was always taught to think, dreaming of a day when I’ll be married to the person I love.’

‘Well, forgive me, in turn, for not waiting for a day that can never come.’

‘Well, forgive me for dreaming about it regardless!’

‘With your little Lady Florence—?’

‘No! With you, of course!’

‘I beg your pardon!?’

‘That’s right, Lord Alfred, you can’t stop me dreaming about it, against all sense: me in my finest suit, you in your uniform, taking our vows, exchanging rings, promising to love and to cherish each other; we would kiss and the church would erupt in cheers, you would choose the flowers, I the menu, you would complain about rice in your hair, and we would honeymoon in France.’

‘You think about that kind of thing!?’ Alfred retorted.

‘So what if I do!?’

‘I’m going to kiss you right now!’

‘Not if I kiss you first!’

Alfred’s back hit the mattress in a flash, pressed into luxurious sheets by Edward’s heavenly weight. And his kisses were hotter than fire. They knew that they were quite safe now and would not be interrupted. Damn the world, it could go hang outside these walls while they embraced each other at last and gave in to the heady heat of months and months of built-up passion.


	4. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred teaches a thing or two to Edward and they start to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;-)

The heat of the argument was nothing compared to their kisses. And Edward was already untying Alfred’s underthings, bringing him to a surprised giggle.

‘Is that wrong? Shall I stop?’ Edward asked, worried his inexperience was laughably obvious.

‘By no means, darling,’ Alfred was quick to say, while he tugged on Edward’s robe and mentally swore to throw the offending item on the fire one day. ‘But are we not going too fast?’ he asked seriously.

‘Not fast enough,’ Edward replied breathlessly, tearing open Alfred’s shirt with one swift move.

Alfred tried, he really tried, but as soon as Edward instinctively moved down to kiss his neck, he curled his leg around the back of Edward’s knee so that they lay flushed against each other, and there was no doubt that this was not an innocent dalliance anymore.

Pretty soon, their clothes landed on the carpet and thoughts of the court, Sir Robert, Lady Florence, or any spies or other obstacles were miles and miles away.

‘I can’t believe we did this,’ Edward sighed against Alfred’s lips afterwards.

They were snuggled under the sheets, still naked. Nose rubs, lazy kisses, heaven. Edward could not stop smiling. Nor could Alfred.

‘Are you sure I did not push you?’

‘For the millionth time, Alfred, no.’

‘I did nudge.’

‘I needed a good nudge!’

Alfred snorted naughtily, bringing Edward to a blush.

‘I meant,’ he corrected himself embarrassedly, ‘this entire evening. The charades. Shakespeare. You. Tonight was _perfect_.’

‘Really? Even when you flinched?’

‘I didn’t—oh, alright,’ Edward chuckled, letting a yawn stifle it. ‘Only because your hands wandered to…’

‘Next time, warn me you’re ticklish there. I value the shape of my nose as much as the next man.’

‘Once again, I’m deeply sorry.’

‘You really do have surprisingly hard muscles. What do you do?’

‘I row, mostly.’

‘Ten times a week?’

‘Not ten.’

‘Sorry, nine?’

‘You’re one to talk, you, who practically lives in the saddle.’

‘Are you complaining?’

‘Never…’ Edward replied with a daring squeeze of Alfred’s shapes in under the duvet. ‘I don’t know why I hesitated now. Well, I suppose I could not be sure.’

‘Of yourself?’

‘Of you.’

‘Me?’

‘Well, of course. Imagine if I had kissed you and you were not willing. If I had misread something… how I feared I had!’

‘Edward, we have been flirting for months! Tonight, I concocted a situation in which you were free to kiss me properly in front of the Queen of England and not be chastised for it, for it was only a game. When you fumbled, I came to your house to remedy that missed chance. I could not have been more obvious if I had sat in your lap on the front benches of the Commons in the middle of one of Sir Robert’s droning speeches!’

‘Perhaps I am not as bright as I thought I was. Or as virtuous. I must say, I would not have thought of half the things you showed me… goodness gracious, you… you licked off the, uh…’

‘I told you we must leave no trace.’

‘Good God, if Charlotte knew…’

‘What?’

‘Well, she always goes on about my morals…’

‘Morals?’

‘Just… calls me Mr Highground… noble and such… But… hm…’

‘But?’

Edward was drifting off. Alfred’s heart was warmed by the sight. The light of the fire flickered off Edward’s glistening cheekbone and dark eyelashes. He could almost let it happen. Alas, sleep would not come to him even after a half hour.

‘Edward? … Edward?’

Edward inhaled sharply as he woke. ‘Hm?’

‘What did you mean by your morals?’

‘Huh?’

‘Your morals. You don’t think I’ve led you astray from your sound morals, do you?’

‘Oh. Huh. Uh…’ Edward mumbled half-awake. ‘No, I just… you know. Not… not married… don’t want to…’

‘You think we shouldn’t have because we are not married? Edward?’

Edward jumped. He had nearly drifted into sleep.

‘Nuh, I just… you, I… you… if marriage is… oh, I don’t know, Alfred, let us discuss it in the morning.’

Edward kissed Alfred sloppily and fell asleep like a shot.

Alfred tried but after another half hour’s torturous overthinking, he was still awake.

‘Edward?’ he said gently and eased his lover awake with a little nudging touch.

‘Hm?’

‘You’re not thinking you would still marry Florence to unblemish your moral path?’

‘Wha—huh?’

Alfred bit his lip. ‘Nothing,’ he said with a kiss on Edward’s forehead. ‘Nothing. Go back to sleep.’

Edward, though concerned, did not need telling twice. Alas, Alfred would rouse him again within moments.

‘Florence who, again?’

Edward inhaled and exhaled heavily, accepting his fate.

‘Kerr,’ he grumbled, hoping to satisfy Alfred’s late-night curiosity. ‘The Lady Florence Kerr.’

‘Kerr?’ Alfred repeated. ‘Not Lothian’s daughter?’

‘You know her?’ Edward asked, mildly intrigued despite his sleepiness.

‘I know _of_ her. The marquess and I are members of the same club, though I cannot say I ever rejoice in sighting him. Odious man. A dashed snob, too…’

‘Hm,’ Edward grunted, not wanting to think about the marquess.

‘…the things Will told me about him!’ Alfred added aloud.

Edward’s interest was piqued. ‘What things? Must you still call him by his first name—?’

Alfred ignored him. ‘But I must have met his daughter,’ he pondered on. ‘No, I am sure I have! I danced with her at the Wyndhams’ ball last season. A spoiled little blonde piece. Accomplished but Lady Cecilia said she had no sense of humour whatsoever. You are to be engaged to _her_!?’ he grimaced.

‘Why? I believe she is considered quite personable.’

‘Personable,’ Alfred repeated sceptically, looking at Edward in the dark. ‘Personable. I daresay you deserve someone more than personable.’

‘I deserve some sleep, Alfred,’ Edward replied with finality. He kissed Alfred’s forehead and slumped back on the pillows. ‘Good night, my love.’

Alfred absolutely could not sleep after that. It took him several minutes to comprehend it before he eased Edward awake with a gentle brush of his hair.

‘“My love”?’

‘Yes?’

‘You said… you said “my love”. You called me your _love_.’

Edward opened his eyes at last.

‘Well, yes,’ he replied as if it was obvious.

Alfred grew rather forlorn.

‘What, what have I done? Alfred, my l—’ Edward fretted until Alfred kissed him hotly all of a sudden. ‘Don’t you ever sleep?’ he teased Alfred between kisses when he realised where this was going.

‘I _must_ show you how much I love you too.’

Edward’s face lit up. Sleep could go hang. ‘Have you not shown me enough tonight?’ he asked with no intention of talking Alfred out of it.

‘Oh, there are plenty of things I am yet to show you… _my love_.’

The three strikes of the drawing room’s grandfather clock echoed faintly upstairs just as Alfred came back from the bathroom.

‘I adore your taps,’ he said, drying himself with a towel he stole from his love.

Edward, who was smoking by the window, looked up frowning.

‘The little golden dolphins,’ Alfred clarified. ‘Very stylish. And running hot water? How modern!’

‘Oh. Thank you.’

‘Makes me want to spend every night here.’

‘Only for that?’

‘Well… This place has many allures.’

‘I hope its owner is one of them.’

‘He’s not bad, not bad at all.’

Edward shook his head fondly and held out his arm for his love.

‘Should we do that?’ Alfred asked, approaching him cautiously. ‘By the window, with the shutters wide open?’

Edward exhaled through the gap in the window and shared his cheroot with Alfred. ‘There is no one in the street, spy or otherwise.’

‘Why so gloomy, then?’

‘I’m just exhausted.’

‘Did I wear you out?’

‘Only in the very best of ways. But may I ask you something?’

‘Once again, Edward, you were heavenly, you did everything superbly – indeed, I shan’t be on my horse for days if you must know—’

‘Not _that_ ,’ Edward cut in, feeling himself grow red. ‘I just got a sense… Alfred, did I bring back unpleasant memories?’

‘Edward! You cannot doubt how happy you’ve made me all night. _All night_.’

‘I meant, before… You seemed so tragic at first. Did I remind you of something? Perhaps of someone who once called you their love before I.’

‘Don’t be silly. No one had ever said that to me,’ Alfred confessed. ‘I suppose that's what clouded my mood for a second.’

‘Well, I do. I love you. Does it scare you? Because if it does, Alfred, I’m sorry, but I do. In fact, I have been madly in love with you since the day I saw you, looking so excellent, your shiny helmet…’

‘Helmet? Oh. The parade!’

‘…and if it is too much to bear or you find it vulgar or silly, then say so now and I shall attempt to accept it and somehow live a half-life to the best of my abilities from this night forth, for I do not believe I can love another like I love you.’

Alfred was quite speechless. He stumped out the cigar and stepped into Edward’s arms.

‘I love you,’ he whispered softly against Edward’s lips. ‘I love you and I am not scared a bit. I just don’t want to lose you. That, I fear.’

‘I am not a set of keys.’

‘You’re not? Well! There go my plans to keep you in my pocket.’

Edward ducked his head he was so flustered.

‘Really, Alfred. You will not lose me. Before you worry again, I am determined not to marry Florence or anyone else that is not you. After tonight? How could I?’

‘Is that what you were trying to mumble to me in your sleep?’

‘I suppose I was. I say this clearly now: I’d sooner jump off a cliff than marry her, I just don’t know how to get out of it.’

‘But you have not got _into_ it in the first place, my darling. No proposal, no engagement, no marriage. Who does she think she is, honestly?’

‘She is not the problem, truly. What do you know about the marquess?’

‘Enough to convince him to redirect his ambitions to select a son-in-law elsewhere, and without a grumble, thank you very much!’

‘Then, that’s sorted. What else should you fear?’

‘The storm.’

‘The storm?’

‘Yes,’ Alfred said soberly and rested his head on Edward’s shoulder. ‘The sea of storm. I know you hold a low opinion of William and many of your reasons are quite, quite valid. He was a reckless man. His solution to avoid being burnt was to put an ocean between himself and the dangers he sparked with his carelessness. It happened so many times that we formed a sort of allegory.’

Edward fought off his dislike of the notorious captain and listened.

‘Imagine that you and I are swimming at sea, separate and without help in sight. While not every stroke is easy, we manage to stay afloat because the alternative is swimming ashore and the people there will only allow us to stay on their land if we let them tie our hands behind our backs. So, preferring to be free, we swim. Alas, the seas are unpredictable. There is a storm looming over the horizon. We find a boat. One boat for the two of us to share. How lucky we are, are we not? Lending a hand to one another, we manage to find refuge and safety in that boat. We even find it is a magical one. No one would believe us if we told them; at best they would declare us insane and ungodly for believing in witchcraft or try to take it from us. But we know that as long as we rely on each other and keep the boat far out of sight of the shores, we can be safe and happy.’

As if to emulate the fictional boat, a soft creak sounded from the hallway. Edward was too immersed in the story to think twice about it.

‘We start to build the boat, and the more we work together, the stronger and better it gets,’ Alfred continued. ‘If we mend the cracks at once, we wake up to the boat having turned into a yacht, nay, a ship strong enough to withstand all weathers. If we never slack or fail to turn the masts, we might wake up to barrels of fresh water and wine to last us a long while. If we don’t regard us above scrubbing the deck with our bare hands, the storm shall stay away. But it is always there. One slip, one knot not tied tightly enough, one night when we get too comfortable to watch out for rocks, the storm will know and it shall come and destroy the ship below our very feet mercilessly, in which case we shall be lucky to survive enough to keep swimming, separate once more, at best holding onto a broken plank of wood that is all that remains of what we had built. No more magic. No more wine. Do you understand?’

‘I think so,’ Edward replied seriously. ‘Is that what happened with your former _friends_?’

Alfred shrugged elusively. Was it the shutters he closed or the landing outside that creaked so?

‘I mean it,’ he said. ‘We cannot live in fear, but we cannot let our guard down for a single second. I can do away with the marquess this time but there will be another one later, and the next, and the next. Storm after storm that tests us.’

‘Well,’ Edward said standing up straight and proudly. ‘You’ll be pleased to find I am an excellent swimmer.’

‘Who could doubt it?’ Alfred replied with a naughty glint in his eyes and feeling Edward’s biceps for emphasis. ‘Shall we go back to bed?’

Edward opened his mouth—

‘To sleep,’ Alfred promised.

Edward slipped the towel out of Alfred’s hands and pulled him towards the bed. Before they could get back between the sheets, a loud crash sounded from downstairs.


	5. A Most Revelatory Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward may not be the only Drummond having a secret sleepover.

Edward and Alfred froze more quickly than if they had plunged into a cold lake as bare as two birds.

They listened. The silence after the crash was pressing. Blood ran right into their ears. They had had their fun; could retribution be coming sooner than they hoped?

‘The spy?’

‘A burglar?’

‘Servants?’

‘A stray cat?’

They heard a door open and close with a creak, then soft thuds like bare footsteps on carpet.

‘I must go and investigate at once!’ Edward decided.

Alfred helped him into his clothes and started dressing himself.

‘What are you doing?’ Edward asked from the door.

‘What does it look like? I am coming down with you.’

‘Oh, no, you are not!’ Edward retorted at once. ‘You shouldn’t even be here, Alfred. You must go to the blue room through the bathroom before anyone realises you’ve not spent the night there and you’d better make sure the bed seems slept in.’

‘But I’m a queen’s guard! If it’s a brigand or someone dangerous, I can take them out and—’

‘No, Alfred,’ Edward said authoritatively, drawing himself up to his full height. ‘I’m afraid I must insist. This is my house and I shall make sure my loved ones are safe from harm. I alone. Whilst you are under my roof, you are my guest, not a guard. I shall be the one to protect you. Now, go. And you are not to leave your room under any circumstances.’

Alfred was gaping at him but not in offence. Not at all. He would have dragged his lover back into bed right then and there if it weren’t for the intruder.

He let Edward go by himself.

He never technically uttered anything akin to a promise, though…

Edward ran all the way down the steps. He faltered on the landing only to grab a heavy candelabra as a weapon before he reached the library, where he found Charlotte standing surrounded by the remnants of a particularly ornately (read: tastelessly) decorated vase that was a Christmas present from their mother. She was shushing thin air and turned around on her heels at the appearance of Edward.

He lowered his arm and breathed easily as his heart rate went back to normal.

‘Charlotte? What on Earth are you doing?!’

‘I was just…’

‘Did you break this vase?’

‘YES,’ she replied somewhat strained as if she were a cadet answering her stern captain. ‘Yes, it was me who broke it, completely, that’s exactly what I was doing.’

‘Why on earth were you even moving it? At this time of the night? Oh, no! Charlotte, you were not sleepwalking, were you?’

‘That’s uh… that’s right! I was, in fact, sleepwalking. That’s how I found myself here and broke the vase. Silly me.’

‘But _again_? You haven’t relapsed for three years.’

‘I cannot help it, can I?’

‘Shall I call for Dr Hornswaggle?’

‘DON’T GO NOW,’ Charlotte suddenly yelled more at the library desk than to Edward. ‘I mean, don’t, really, you booby. Look, look at me. I said LOOK my way, not towards the library. At me. See? I am perfectly fine.’

She flailed her arms distractingly and he was indeed compelled to give her a good look. His usually composed and introverted sister was red in the face as if from running, her hair was as wild as ever, as if it had been repeatedly grabbed at, and she had her dressing gown on inside out.

‘If you’re sure…’ he murmured unconvincedly.

‘I am! I’m only sorry about the vase.’

‘I thought you detested the vase.’

‘It was starting to grow on me.’

‘Mama will murder you.’

‘Good! Then we have a good talking point to last through coffee.’

‘Whatever you say, Charlotte. I’m just thankful you didn’t hurt yourself!’

‘I’m fine, honestly.’

‘Thank heavens you wandered _down_ stairs, not upstairs…’ he murmured more to himself, helping her step out of the ring of broken china and sad puddle of flowers on the carpet.

Charlotte’s ears perked up. ‘Why do you say that?’ she inquired.

‘What did I say?’ he pretended, cursing himself mentally.

‘That you’re grateful I wasn’t sneaking around upstairs. Why should I not? What’s so special about the upstairs rooms?’

‘I never suggested—’

‘Yes, you did, just now.’

‘You’re imagining things!’ Edward lied adding a nervous laugh. ‘Are you sure you’re not sleepwalking still? Keep this up and I shall really call the doctor in the morning. I bet Mama and Papa will love that.’

‘No!’ Charlotte exclaimed, half at something behind his back, then half to him, malleable once more. ‘Oh, no, Edward, I guess my mind was just on books so much, after that most exciting day I had… You know how women can be.’

‘I suppose… you _are_ so damn emotional.’

Charlotte wanted to kick her brother in the shin but she said: ‘Exactly. I’m sorry for alarming you.’

‘You did give me such a fright! I thought we really had a spy sniffing around my house.’

‘No. No spy. Just me. No one else. I went to bed and then kept tossing and turning and thinking about the garden that’s approachable through the library windows… the one on the left. The _other_ left.’

‘What?’

He could swear he heard a noise right from his desk’s area but when he turned he saw—

‘Nothing!’ Charlotte insisted. ‘See, I’m alright, just got my mind on the library too much, hence the, uh, sleepwalking. Now, we should go back to sleep…’

But Edward wouldn’t leave. He leaned against the doorframe. He was relieved, yes, but vexed too.

‘You must be the only person whose sleepwalking drives them into her brother’s library to read,’ he grumbled.

‘You should try it once in a while, might make you less of a bore,’ she teased. ‘It must get boring on the moral high ground.’

‘Hey! I do read!’

‘Endlessly, yes, but I don’t mean reports and speeches! I mean real stuff!’

‘Real stuff?’

‘Novels! Fiction!’ Charlotte burst out animatedly, grabbing Edward’s hands to pull him away from the library. ‘Adventures, sword fights, damsels in distress, mistresses sneaking out at night through the library window whilst their lovers distract the lord of the house with small talk…’

‘Sounds rather unsuitable to me,’ Edward replied, his feet about as light as an elephant.

‘Does it? Well, then, I think we should stop chattering about and go back upstairs,’ she said and ushered Edward closer to the doorway to leave, with hardly any success.

‘In a minute, I might just ring for Wood to clear up the mess first,’ he said, going towards the library where the nearest service bell was.

‘Nonsense, don’t you dare wake the servants now!’

‘Why not? Mama and Papa will be here in the morning and I’ll never hear the end of this.’

‘This will be cleaned up well before they arrive. Now,’ she quipped and feigned a theatrical yawn. ‘Goodness gracious am I sleepy! All this sleepwalking is rather exhausting.’

‘Is it?’

‘Oh, yes, certainly. It’s like dog years.’

‘Dog years!?’

‘That’s right. You know, for every human year, a dog ages seven. For a sleepwalker, a single step of the stairs feels like a mile. Considering that, I did quite a hike tonight, so, if you don’t mind, up you go, Edward, and so shall I—’

‘CECILIA?!’

Edward and Charlotte stopped and turned towards the shadow by the servants’ door hidden in the oak panelling from where another man’s voice came. Charlotte poised to defend herself with a shard of the broken vase but that was nothing compared to Edward, who actually shrieked and turned right back to his precious library.

‘I told you to stay in my—I mean in YOUR room!’ he squeaked as if he couldn’t be heard by his sister, who now frowned at him.

‘What!? Who’s there!? Show yourself!’ she demanded fiercely.

The man came into view, his blond hair silvery in the moonlight.

‘Cecilia, I can see you!’ he repeated seemingly at the ground, ignoring the Drummonds for now, for his surprise was enormous.

‘Alfred!?’ a woman who was not Charlotte screeched in response. ‘Ow!’ came a yelp, too, and then a head of red hair emerging from under Edward’s orderly desk. The hair belonged to a woman in a tartan cloak that Edward recognised as his sister’s.

_Earlier that night…_

‘Night!’ Charlotte said to thin air as her brother had hurried back to his bedroom.

Oh, well, she had heard tales about Queen Victoria frowning upon guests who ask for a chamber pot whilst dining at the Palace. Edward must have drunk too much wine to soothe his nerves around important royals and just got in. That would explain his giddiness, too.

He did not seem to think twice about her declaration that there was nothing to hide in the house, which could not have been less true.

She found Cecilia still lying in her bed, one of her bare legs uncovered by the sheets that were pulled up only to cover her chest but only just. Used to Charlotte’s presence by now, after heavenly months of secret night-time meetings whenever they could manage it, she didn’t look up from what she was reading.

No, not reading. She was immersed in some loose pages. Pages Charlotte recognised at once.

‘Where did you find those!?’ she seethed in a loud whisper after closing her bedroom door.

‘Well, now, darling Charlotte,’ Cecilia tutted, blowing a loose red lock out of her eyes. ‘Should I not be the one to demand answers given that these drawings show my good self as God intended?’

Charlotte tried to snatch the pages away from her girlfriend but she jumped out of bed, pulling the comforter around herself for modesty, even if she began to strut gleefully and seductively around the room.

‘Really, Charlotte, you flatter me! Is this really how you see me? Well, I suppose, from my good angle and before the Christmas feasts…’

‘Cecilia…’

‘But where was I when this happened? Apart from this one in ink, I do not believe you secretly drew these whilst I was asleep. Did you make these out of memory?’

Charlotte bit her bottom lip. ‘I might have… I just really miss you on so many nights. But you were not supposed to see them!’ she groaned, burying her face in her hands in shame. ‘I’m horrible, aren’t I?’

‘Whyever would you say that, my dearest?’

‘Well, correct me if I’m wrong but I believe it is not very nice to have a secret stash of nude studies of someone who did not consent to being one’s muse.’

‘I am your muse?’ Cecilia asked, beaming proudly at her lover.

‘Why, of course, who else?’

‘Well!’ Cecilia said and placed the drawings carefully on a desk. Then, she grabbed a pencil and a sketchbook and cast them on the bed. Finally, she stood right in the middle of the room, in full view of her lover. Well, not quite full until she dropped the sheet that covered her. ‘Let me be your muse, then. I consent.’

After Charlotte gathered her jaw off the floor, she got to sketching. Cecilia frustrated her endlessly by insisting she did it properly. As soon as she was satisfied, Charlotte threw away her sketchbook and pulled Cecilia on the bed, the real, flesh and blood version with heavenly smooth skin and hair that always smelled of cherries and strawberries.

The only thing that interrupted their joy was a strange, deep groan coming from another room.

‘What was that?’ Cecilia asked between kisses.

‘What?’

‘That noise. Is your brother alright?’

‘He’s fine, he just snores.’

‘Does he?’

‘I don’t know, and I don’t care…’ Charlotte said with finality and that was against the skin of her lover’s thigh, so no more attention was paid to the matter.

…until apparently, she realised there was another guest in the house, a young man who saw fit to stand in their library in just his breeches, shirt, and waistcoat!

‘Who’s this?’ asked Edward and Charlotte at the same time but pointing at different visitors.

Alfred, meanwhile, lent a hand to the red-haired woman to help her on her feet.

‘Hit your head, didn’t you? Clumsy as ever, I see,’ he remarked amusedly.

‘Oh, you know, Alfred,’ Cecilia said privately, massaging her scalp, ‘Wish it were against a headboard.’

Alfred chuckled out loud. Upon their visible friendliness, Charlotte stepped closer, raising the shard of vase against him.

‘Who are you, sir, and why does my—my friend address you by your first name?’ she demanded unceremoniously. ‘What is this? How have you got into our house? Did my parents send you!?’

‘I… I…’

‘He is here on my invitation, Charlotte!’ Edward stepped in. ‘This is Lord Alfred Paget, from the court, Her Majesty’s equerry.’

‘ _Chief_ Equerry!’ Alfred demanded with dignity.

‘Chief, yes, sorry, my lo—LORD Alfred,’ Edward muttered awkwardly.

Charlotte spared him a frown but she had other priorities and would not lower the shard of vase.

‘Edward did not mention we had a guest in the house tonight,’ she told Alfred accusatorily.

‘It was rather last minute,’ Alfred said in defence, holding up his hands. ‘Ask the butler.’

‘What could have been so urgent and yet so unimportant to mention to me before Edward bid me good night?’

‘We just needed to finish something that we began at the Palace, Drummond and I.’

‘At night? In our house?’

‘In my house,’ Edward injected in a small voice that went ignored as always.

‘It was rather a matter of urgency indeed,’ Alfred insisted, fluttering his long eyelashes as innocently as he could. ‘We had to see something, something that could not be fully explored in front of Her Majesty. I simply could not leave unless we were both satisfied.’

‘Indeed,’ Edward chimed in. ‘For me to refuse would have caused a diplomatic incident.’

Alfred nodded. ‘Please, Miss Drummond. I mean no harm.’

‘He really doesn’t, Charlotte,’ Cecilia said, stepping between them. ‘I know Lord Alfred well. Very well.’

‘That’s what I was afraid of,’ Charlotte grumbled, shooting daggers at Alfred with her eyes.

‘No, not like that, Charlotte,’ Cecilia insisted hastily. ‘He has been my friend since we were children. We still dance together often but only dance and nothing more.’

‘I wouldn’t call what you do “dancing”,’ Alfred said before thinking. He quickly realised it wouldn’t do to turn both of the ladies against himself, so he changed course: ‘I must say I did not expect to run into you here.’

‘I could say the same about you.’

‘ _I_ am here on Drummond’s invitation—’

‘In the blue room,’ Edward injected unnecessarily, being more suspicious than if he had stayed shut up.

‘—Yes, thank you, Drummond, in the blue room,’ Alfred seconded, secretly exasperated. ‘I was not told of another guest either, as it happens. I assume you are here at Miss Drummond’s invitation yourself?’

‘Hang on. That’s right,’ Edward realised just now, turning to his sister. ‘You never said you were having a friend stay over, either. Don’t you think I ought to know about who happens to be in my house?’

‘I forgot,’ Charlotte said airily. ‘I was busy telling you about my success at the academy and then off you dashed, back to your room, as if you couldn’t wait to get to the necessary.’

Edward went red, thinking about Alfred waiting half-naked in his room.

‘Ohhh!’ Cecilia cooed mischievously and Alfred’s face confirmed her assumption. ‘Oh, Alfred… incorrigible…’

‘Says you,’ Alfred retorted covertly while Edward was still scolding on Charlotte:

‘You might have warned me,’ he told her, ‘or left a note. Told Wood to relay it to me when I get in. Something. Anything. For privacy! For… for… many reasons!’

‘Why are you being so strange tonight?’ Charlotte asked pointedly at that, forgetting to keep threatening Alfred with the shard of porcelain.

‘What? Me? Strange? I’m not being strange,’ Edward protested and nearly slipped on the spilled water from the vase.

‘Yes, you are, you’re so… jumpy.’

‘Put that damned shard down, now, will you?!’

She did. But she did not relent. ‘You have never been bothered by me having guests over before.’

Now this sobered him up. ‘Charlotte, you have never had a friend stay over since you’ve moved here. Ever,’ he said.

‘Yes, I have.’

‘No, never.’

‘I have, too.’

‘Name one time.’

‘I’ve… had… um… there was Lady… Sir… Mrs… It was my turn to hold the poetry club here one time! Ha!’

‘Not overnight.’

‘Well, that’s—’

‘Lady Cecilia wasn’t really going to stay overnight,’ Alfred remarked, again, without thinking, or perhaps precisely to cut to the bottom of the night’s hushed up invitations. ‘Not _all_ night by the look of things. Don’t you live just across the mews, Cecilia?’

Cecilia turned towards him with a look that could kill and only that saved him from breaking out in a knowing smirk.

‘One more word,’ she threatened him in a very low undertone. ‘And I shall speak in front of your friend just as loosely, perhaps about your previous diplomatic incidents.’

‘You would not.’

‘Wouldn’t I?’

‘It hardly matters,’ Alfred told her and then proudly for all to hear: ‘Mr Drummond is not easily shocked or if he is, he is very good at getting over his embarrassment quite easily. When the urge truly strikes.’

Edward stepped over to him anxiously. ‘What is that supposed to mean, Lord Alfred?’

Alfred would not have dreamed of outing Edward to his sister if he did not permit him.

‘Nothing! I just cannot believe Lady Cecilia has not made your acquaintance yet! You two are such kind friends in my books, indeed my very kindest friends. But how do _you two_ know each other, Miss Drummond? Your being your brother’s sister gives you credit but a friend of Lady Cecilia’s must be a remarkable person. Remarkable, and some might say of a refined taste.’

He was doing a bad job of biting back a grin regardless of Cecilia’s mouthing “shut up” at him.

Edward was so confused. He sensed there was a secret to which he was not privy and, being of a curious nature, he had to know.

‘I will get out of your hair but I must say this for all our sakes: if you _are_ a special friend of Cecilia’s, Miss Drummond,’ Alfred continued, braving the waters. ‘Then, I am most delighted to make your acquaintance and let me reassure you that my aspirations with her have only ever extended as far as getting her to complete a dance without stepping on my foot and no further. I would be as much use to her as a husband as she to me as a wife.’

Edward now exceeded even his own previous levels of confusion: what was Alfred talking about, a wife? Him a husband? But he was especially confounded when these words made Charlotte change her whole composure. She was no longer about to attack Lord Alfred. On the contrary, she laughed out loud like he had said something funny.

‘It’s true, Charlotte,’ Cecilia added.

‘Excuse me, what is true?’ Edward asked.

‘Well, that’s…’ Charlotte stuttered, looking between the two rather less angrily than before. ‘That’s quite alright, then.’

‘Is it?’ Cecilia asked, stepping close to her friend, close enough to take her hands. ‘Is it really?’

‘Well, of course.’

‘So, you are _not_ outraged?’

‘Why would I be? I am relieved you are not involved with Lord Alfred, though I am sure he is a fine young man if you say so.’

‘He _is_ a fine man. Your brother is lucky to be his friend…’

‘Yes, yes, I’m sure he is,’ Charlotte agreed still obliviously.

It was only when Cecilia stared extra intensely at her that the penny dropped. She shrieked from the shock and dropped Cecilia’s hands in favour of rounding on his brother.

‘EDWARD!?’

‘What?’ Edward replied, his confusion reaching new highs.

‘YOU NEVER SAID ANYTHING.’

‘Said what!? Will someone tell me what the ruddy hell is going on?!’

Alfred stepped to him smoothly.

‘I believe your sister has discovered the true purpose of my visit,’ he told him as gently as possible, but Edward was filled with dread.

‘The purpose of discussing, uh… important… governmental… royal… business… politics…’

‘Don’t worry, Edward, I think Lady Cecilia is your sister’s lover and shan’t betray us.’

‘Diplomatic---WHAT!?’

‘So, no need for more of this charade,’ Alfred said, clapping his palms together to rouse this lot from their gaping and stuttering and pointing at one another. ‘I believe Lady Cecilia was about to sneak back home through the mews and we must let her do so in peace. I shall see you at the Lewishams’ ball next Wednesday. As for us, we should sleep off the surprises of this most revelatory night— _in the blue room_ ,’ Alfred added with a theatrical wink and pushed Edward towards the doorway and the stairs even as he was stammering his “but… but… buts”.


	6. No Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward and Charlotte come to terms with each other's secrets and Alfred has one more to own up to.

Alfred was pushing Edward up the stairs by his shapely bottom but the man swiftly swerved right on the landing and swept through a secret door that went back downstairs. Alfred huffed in exasperation – how many secret passages did this house hold? those things could be a blessing and a curse! – and followed him all the way down to what appeared to be a small smoking room.

Ah, that’s where they kept the liquor. And Edward was pouring himself a deep glass of Scotch.

‘May I have a drop, too, my dearest?’

Edward swirled around in a flurry of curls and more “but… but… buts” before he knocked back his drink and composed himself:

‘Who was that woman under my desk? “Lady Cecilia.”’

Alfred went ahead and poured them both more Scotch for the nerves while he spoke rather nonchalantly:

‘Only my dear friend Lady Cecilia Wyndham, the Earl of Listowel’s step-daughter. She is quite respectable when she is not sneaking out at night for a rendezvous. I am surprised you have never met her given she is a friend, or rather an acquaintance, of Lady Florence’s but hey ho. I forget you come all the way from Scotland sometimes. Is this from your own distillery?’

‘What?’

‘The Scotch.’

‘Oh. Yes.’

‘Single malt?’

‘Double.’

‘It’s delicious.’

‘What you said, Alfred,’ Edward said, back to the point, ‘Is that all true?’

‘Oh, yes, Cecilia is terribly clumsy. Beware of her on the ballroom floor. I could never teach her how to get through the Polka without stomping on my dress shoes in the circle—’

‘Not that!’

‘Ah. Yes, the other thing. Well, they did not deny it.’

‘I have to sit down.’

Alfred snatched a sleeping cat off the armchair just before Edward slumped on it and cradled his whiskey.

‘But… but… I… I didn’t know…’

‘Yes, well, we are not exactly advertising it in the Times, either, _are we sir? Are we?_ ’ Alfred asked the cat, who couldn’t care less about the unfolding crisis and escaped his grasp in favour of resting on the hearth rug, even if there was no fire going.

It probably smelled Diver, the Dalmatian, on him.

‘I thought we had to keep it all secret,’ Edward said. ‘Remember, “the storm”?’

Alfred turned to Edward, sitting down in the other armchair opposite him.

‘Do remember that, always. And remember this night as one of a kind. We will never be able to just come out and tell people we are lovers and know for sure that the reaction won’t be a disastrous one.’

‘But how did they guess? Did _you_ tell them I—'

‘How could I when I wasn’t sure about you until approximately 9:45 p.m. last night?’

‘But Lady Cecilia just _knew_. She saw.’

‘She knows what to look for. Most do not.’

‘And she’s gone and told my sister.’

‘And? Is that a problem? Cecilia, I daresay, knows your sister very intimately, so I trust her to have done the correct thing in initiating her into our secret. It’s the same secret she has.’

‘That’s… that’s true. It’s just all happened very quickly tonight. I’m sure she feels the same.’

‘She took it well, I thought.’

Meanwhile, in the library, Cecilia was massaging the shoulders of an equally shaken Charlotte sitting numbly in Edward’s chair.

‘He never said anything,’ she uttered in a voice hollow from being impressed. ‘I would never have assumed in a million years. He is such a… _boy_. Certainly no dandy like his… your… Lord Wilfred.’

‘ _Alfred_. And excuse you, Lord Alfred is a most refined gentleman who would take that as a compliment. But you should see him in his uniform. Give him a sword and a horse and he is a man’s man.’

‘A man’s man? That man being _my brother_. My brother! Mr High Ground! I cannot believe this!’

‘You’re not disgruntled, are you? Would be rich, considering…’

‘I have no space to feel anything but surprise to my core because _my brother_ is the last man I’d have thought… I mean… he wouldn’t! He has never once done anything he wasn’t supposed to in his life.’

‘I’m sure that’s not true.’

‘But it is. He would confess to his teachers if the student nearest him copied the test answers off him rather than miss out on sleep for the anxiety that he _might_ be taken for a cheater. I mean, it’s Edward, you know?’

‘No man is an island.’

Charlotte gulped. ‘I don’t think I can even imagine him having those kinds of overwhelming feelings for anyone, let alone anyone he wasn’t exactly supposed to feel anything for.’

‘Aren’t you being a pot and he Mr Kettle?’

‘That’s completely different!’

‘Why, because they’re men—?’

‘Because _I’ve_ always been hopeless. _I’m_ the rebel in the family! _He_ was always going to be so malleable, so proper, our parents’ pride and joy. He was always going to do as told and has raised not one objection thus far. I wish he had told me sooner. I had no idea he held such a secret. Certainly nothing of _this_ sort. I mean, he is about to be engaged to Florence.’

‘You’re not sad about that going down the drain, are you? You can stand her even less than I. Serves her right, if you ask me…’

Charlotte turned sharply around and started to laugh.

‘Oh! Oh, I see! Oh, my God! I fell for it completely! Hahaha!’

‘What the devil—'

‘You were having me on. This is a big prank. You were going to play a joke on Florence. I say! Ha!’

‘My darling Charlotte, I’m afraid this is not one of my pranks for a change,’ Cecilia told her gently but honestly. ‘I really do believe Edward is less keen on her than on Lord Alfred. Much less if Alfred asked himself here for the night. We shan’t judge him for that.’

Charlotte stopped laughing gradually as the realisation hit her again. It was all true. She went back into deflated numbness. Not for long, though. She started thinking.

‘Well, if Edward is not keen on her, that to me is a cause for celebration, make no mistake. But, Cecilia, I do not think Florence will take kindly to being refused the big match that everyone wants! We must do something.’

‘You are so protective, I love you,’ Cecilia cooed and kissed her.

‘I mean it. If Edward has no mind to marry, my parents will make _me_. I mean even more than they already try to.’

‘…and so practical, too,’ Cecilia remarked, rather less impressed. ‘Where is your sense of romance first, darling?’

‘Romance?’

‘Oh, my dear,’ Cecilia tutted and came to crouch by Charlotte’s feet on the carpet. ‘Did you not see them? Not one lie left my lips. Alfred is a wonderful man and a splendid friend to have. If he has found love with the brother of the woman I love—’

‘Love?’

‘You know I love you.’

‘But my brother and Lord… Lord Alfred… are they in love like we are?’

‘Seemed so to me.’

‘You got that from two minutes in the same room with them? What if they are just having fun? Perhaps there is still a chance Edward will marry?’

‘Do you want him to?’

Charlotte shook her head somewhat guiltily. ‘I see the way he is around Florence. He already finds her tedious. He would never admit this, he’s too polite. He’s such a good boy, he would deny his feelings, if he has ever had any, for the sake of everyone getting along. A true diplomat.’

‘Trust me, darling,’ Cecilia said seriously. ‘Whatever you say, Mr Drummond seemed to me rather the opposite of an unfeeling goody-two-shoes that you always describe him as. The man I got to know tonight seemed rather passionate to me! As for Alfred, I know him like the back of my hand. He is the only person apart from you that knows about my preference for the ladies. Well, the only man. He knew exactly what I was doing here, that’s why he revealed himself. He knew it would be alright, among friends. And it will be. You _will_ be nice to him. For me?’

‘What’s his full name?’

‘He’s a Paget.’

‘Oh… Oh!?’

‘I know.’

‘Related to…’

‘He’s the Marquess’s son.’

‘Anglesey’s son!’

‘That’s right.’

‘From which…?’

‘The second marriage.’

‘Oh. Crikey.’

Cecilia grinned naughtily. Everyone had heard the stories. Lots of them.

‘You trust this man?’

‘With my life,’ Cecilia declared in a heartbeat.

‘When did you tell him…?’

‘I didn’t.’

Charlotte leaned forward, intrigued.

‘He meant to borrow my perfume when I was a debutante,’ Cecilia recounted reluctantly, ‘and caught me with my lady’s maid. I returned the favour when I meant to jump-scare him from his coat cupboard after a dance at Plas Newydd and he did not retire to his bedchamber alone.’

‘You did not…’

‘I’m afraid I did. I saw them at it as soon as they closed the door! Up against the door, to be precise. And me, hiding in there like a fool! I had a disguise prepared and everything, I was painted white like a ghost! It was a private joke. Anyway, his handsome friend shrieked like a banshee when I appeared—I wasn’t going to hide and listen while they did whatever they were going to do!—but Alfred just laughed, so much he teared up, gosh, how red his face was! He was young then and couldn’t hold his port, you see. I am certain his parents heard him but then they’d never judge, not with their scandalous history.’

‘My brother is having an affair with that man?’

Cecilia saw why Charlotte would be less amused. ‘Well, darling, that was a long time ago. He knows better than to be flimsy and careless now. _I think._ Although…’

‘What?’

‘Nothing… At least I hope it’s nothing.’

Although it was nearly dawn, Charlotte really couldn’t let Cecilia go home until she got answers to all her questions.

In the smoking room, Alfred topped up both his and Edward’s whisky glasses.

‘You’ve been quiet for a long time, my love,’ Alfred remarked. Even the cat had fallen asleep again.

‘Of all things I learned today,’ Edward uttered, deep in thought. ‘I had no idea.’

‘If you ask me, your sister could not have chosen a better partner. Oh, we should all go out for lunch together! Albeit, how would Cecilia come without a chaperone? But oh, we could lunch here, just us four, _a la Russe_. You’ll see, she’s fun, you’ll warm to her if that’s what you’re worried about.’

‘No, not… not that…’

‘You don’t want to lunch with them?’

‘No, yes, I mean, anything you want, my dearest, I… hm.’

‘No, no. No biting your lip and falling silent, Edward. Speak. With words. I beg you!’

Edward noticed himself and drank for Dutch courage.

‘I just had no idea women could be lovers,’ he confessed. ‘I mean what’s the point?’

Alfred stared at him. At length.

‘When did you realise you liked men?’ he asked point-blank.

‘I beg your pardon?!’

‘Edward, after tonight, there is no need to beg my pardon. Really. When-ish? I’m curious.’

‘I don’t know… I don’t…’ Edward stammered until he caught Alfred’s knowing gaze. ‘Perhaps I felt alarmed in the changing room after boxing sometimes but…’

‘Oho!’

‘I only really came to terms with it once I met you!’

Alfred sat up, a bit flattered. ‘Really?’

‘As I said, I was raised to expect to marry. I knew whom, too. I never thought I had any other avenue, even if my body gave me signs. There was never anyone to talk to about it. So I didn’t. Not even to myself.’

‘Do now. To me.’

Edward fought off his embarrassment, which was silly, given Alfred knew him like no other person did, inside and out

‘Naturally, I tried to imagine married life with Florence,’ he said. ‘But that never led anywhere, and then I tried to pray and read medical books, and then I went into politics and found I could bury myself into work splendidly so as to do away with any spare minutes that should find me still _wondering_. I wasn’t doing a great job of it and then you came into my life and I knew it was futile to keep lying to myself. Even if I had to lie to the entire world.’

‘I prompted this?’

‘I suppose I needed to be hit with more than just physical cravings to realise that it was something I could no longer ignore if I am ever to be happy.’

Alfred smiled.

‘Better now?’

‘A little. Yes.’

‘Good. You can always talk to me. And you’ve your sister now, also.’

Edward smiled back. ‘When did you know?’ he asked sweetly in turn and promptly spurted his whiskey out through his nostrils when Alfred said:

‘I was fourteen when I lost a bet on purpose and kissed Freddie Lawton in the cricket shed.’

‘S-s-sorry!?’

‘It was only a kiss. At first.’

‘Is there more Scotch?’

Alfred poured generously.

‘What is the point, you ask?’ he went on wisely. ‘Lots of things. You’d have to ask the ladies about theirs.’

‘But if they can’t marry or have children, what else is there for women to—'

‘Marriage was not on your mind in the changing rooms, either, was it? It can be having fun, curiosity, affection, belonging, passion, and yes, love for the lucky few. I know this is all new to you but had better get used to the idea because it has been going on under your roof for a while and you cannot start judging your sister _now_ or you’ll lose her trust forever.’

Edward quirked his eyebrows in disbelief. ‘What is there to judge?’

‘Yes, of course, the law makes no mention of women.’

Edward laughed. ‘Well, of course not, ladies can’t… you know.’

Alfred chuckled and knocked back his own whiskey. ‘Um, yes, they can and do.’

Edward pulled a sceptical face.

‘Edward, women are just as capable of everything we are.’

‘After the events of this night, I would refute to that statement.’

Alfred went red. ‘Fine, perhaps they can’t do _that_. But they can and do have a gratifying time together, or so I am told. For the details, you are welcome to ask your sister.’

Edward saw the logic in that but shedding a lifetime of teachings to the contrary took him a few seconds.

‘I would love a cigar right about now.’

‘I thought you never go anywhere without your tinderbox,’ Alfred teased him, patting his own pockets.

‘Not so well-equipped, am I?’ Edward replied while leaning into the flame.

‘Oh, you are,’ Alfred said in a deep, suggestive voice that brought Edward to a flush. ‘Very well equipped, I am glad to say.’

They smoked in comfortable silence.

‘See? Isn’t it better that there are no more secrets, at least in this house?’ Alfred remarked. ‘Servants not included, of course. I shall have a word with Cecilia first thing tomorrow about this sneaking around business that to me seems like a disaster waiting to happen. If she were caught, the whole city would think she comes to you at night.’

‘Oh! Oh, no!’

‘I know. And you, Edward, should have a good talk with your sister. They need to learn how to manage this better. They may enjoy the privilege of not being persecuted by Sir Robert and his beloved little acts…’

‘Hey, I have to proofread his—’

‘…but they should know better. We could be incredible allies to one another. Better still, we could be such good friends! Provided Miss Drummond ever warms to the idea of me.’

‘I think she already has,’ Edward smiled.

That was when Charlotte barged in and pointed at Lord Alfred. ‘You. Paget. On your feet.’

Such was her power that Alfred jumped on his feet and stood at attention while she occupied the seat he had just vacated.

‘You may leave, Edward, this is between me and Lord Alfred,’ she commanded.

‘Sorry?’ Edward retorted at once. ‘What on earth could you two possibly have to discuss without me?’

‘Fine, you stay then, but do not cry to me after you’ve heard this,’ she declared like a military commander and turned to the equerry. ‘I have a question to you, Lord Alfred.’

‘I am an open book, Miss Drummond,’ Alfred replied cautiously.

‘So I hear. You are open to many a possibility always. Keeping your options open, are you?’

‘I’m not sure I underst—’

‘Just when exactly were you going to reveal to my brother that you are also conducting an affair with Sir William Peel, Captain of HMS Daring?’

‘Pardon?’

‘That was a while ago, Charlotte,’ Edward jumped in to say. ‘I know about it.’

‘A while ago? Is that what Lord Alfred calls yesterday?’ she retorted.

All eyes were on a very pale Lord Alfred in the spotlight.

‘Well? What have you to say before I kick you out of our house myself?’ she seethed.

‘Alfred, is this true?’ Edward asked him in a small voice that broke Alfred’s heart.

‘It is most definitely not true,’ he declared passionately.

‘Then why did you go to his hotel room last night?’ Charlotte pried.

‘I was with Edward at the Palace last n—.’

‘The night before, then. _After_ dinner.’

And this, Alfred did not deny. Edward went pale and felt as if he had been hit by a ton of bricks. He stood up and rushed to the door, feeling like his limbs moved of their own accord. Alfred caught him just in time.

‘Please, Edward, it is not what you think.’

‘What am I supposed to think?’ Edward replied, wishing his voice had been steadier or at least that Charlotte had not been watching. ‘You told me he had put an ocean between you two. What a fool I was to believe it!’

‘You are not a fool, my love,’ Alfred insisted, heart beating wildly in his chest. ‘He did travel. For a long time.’

‘I see, and you got so bored you fancied me to pass the time with, just until your famous scoundrel of a man returns from exotic lands and involves you in his illicit adventures. Bad timing, right? Or maybe an excellent one. Now he’s back so you can have two cakes, or more, one for each day of the week!’

‘Please, do not stoop so low as to start insulting me, Edward. I went to see William before I was with you.’

‘Oh! I see! Hurray! I cannot object to what you did before me. After all, I followed him one whole day later!’

‘Edward, will you listen?’ Alfred insisted, nearly begging. ‘I did not know he would be back in England. He surprised me at my club—’

‘Spare me the details, Alfred, I’ve no wish to know how it came about!’

‘Just listen! Please, my love, I beg you!’ Alfred pleaded with tears in his eyes. ‘He came to my club and, though he seemed different, more mature somehow, he started suggesting the usual things, flirting, as we did for years and years. I was not party to it this time, my mind completely occupied by you, my darling, my mind, my soul, my heart! When William sensed that I was devoted to another, he became his old self.’

‘What, a brash cad shouting drunkenly at civilised society?’

‘No. And he never did that, you should stop listening to gossip.’

‘Do keep defending him, why not.’

‘I do defend him when defence is due. He did not raise his voice. He was of a perfectly clear mind. But he was genuinely hurt and stopped giving a fig about decorum indeed. When the maître d’ came to remove him, him being on the blacklist, he nearly made a scene. That’s why I said we would talk privately.’

‘Cecilia said it was at a very late hour,’ Charlotte injected mercilessly.

‘Yes,’ Alfred seethed, ignoring her for the sake of keeping Edward’s attention. ‘By the time I got off my duties at the Palace, it _was_ rather late. It was the price of getting you an invite for the dinner the night after without Sir Robert breathing down our necks. But I had to make things absolutely clear with William, the sooner the better.’

‘Oh, yes? Like what?’ Edward asked like a sulking boy.

‘Like the fact that I would not go on being his lover just because he was in England, because I find myself thoroughly enamoured with someone else.’

‘You had to visit him privately at night to tell him that?’

‘Yes, yes I did,’ Alfred said with that forlorn look again that had him in his grasp earlier. ‘I had never seen him like… like… I lied about one thing,’ he confessed.

Edward frowned at him in question.

‘I _had_ heard someone tell me they love me before you. William did, the other night. And I could not say it back to him. There was a time when I would have. By God, there was a time when that would have been everything I had ever dreamed of. That, I will not deny. But he had not cared then. He had to travel. He had all the oysters of the world to taste. What did it matter when I said I loved him, when he had a man in every port say the same? So it should be, unfortunately for him, that by the time he confessed to feeling love for me, I had long given up on him and had _long_ fallen in love with someone else. With you.’

Edward swallowed, conflicted between his flare of jealousy and his love for Alfred.

‘Did you tell him—’

‘I never mentioned you by name,’ Alfred made clear. ‘I would have liked to. My damned pride. But I decided against it for your sake.’

‘Are you afraid he’ll so someth—’

‘No! He is far from that sort. He wasn’t angry, let alone poised for abuse. Please. Half the stories are completely false. The other half, polite society will never get to learn, believe me.’

One thing was sure: Edward would never warm to William Peel.

‘So, did he just… accept it?’ he asked.

‘He had to in the end.’

‘In the end? Did he try to sway you?’

‘Well… of course, he…’

‘Did he? Oh, god, did he touch you? Kiss you?’

‘He may have, what does it—’

‘He _kissed_ you?’

‘On my hands, my face, not like I kiss _you_ ,’ Alfred said hoping his transparency would be better than more lies. ‘It wasn’t like that. It was just sad.’

Edward, though shaken, believed him.

‘You ended things with him before tonight?’ he asked.

Alfred nodded, feeling the sadness of his encounter with William wash over him all over again.

‘Before you were sure of me?’

Alfred nodded again. How he wanted to melt into Edward’s arms! If he let him!

‘What if I had not…?’

‘Then,’ Alfred replied, shuddering from imagining a life without Edward. ‘I would have continued to admire you from afar and cherish our moments as friends for what they are for as long as I would have borne it. If all I had got last night was the touch of your hand during a game of pretence or a smile smiled for me and no one else, I would have taken the memory to bed with me so that I would have had that to dream about until next time.’

‘And that would have been enough?’

‘Course it would not have,’ Alfred admitted honestly, even if it was a bad move. ‘A lifetime would not be enough of you, my love. Please don’t tell me this one night was all I got. My heart would never mend.’

Edward felt that keenly. He kissed Alfred, he couldn’t bear to see him so desperately sad. That seemed to cheer him up and release him from his agonies.

‘Is this why you schemed to find me out tonight?’ Edward asked. ‘Because of Peel’s meddling?’

‘Oh, no,’ Alfred chuckled. ‘That was chance.’

‘But you said you contrived to bring tonight about. The game… coming here…’

‘I did hope to catch you in an informal situation on account of the game, I will admit that. But I had no way of knowing I would pull _Romeo and Juliet_ out of the box! The rest just followed from there. As if it was meant to be.’

Edward smiled, resting his forehead against Alfred’s. ‘It _was_ meant to be,’ he said warmly.

They became aware of a low, drilling noise like the rattle of a distant factory. The cat was purring loudly on Charlotte’s lap while she was finishing Alfred’s whiskey and cigar.

‘Well, Miss Drummond?’ Alfred asked her cautiously. ‘Must I still look forward to you kicking me out of Edward’s house?’

She rolled her eyes subtly.

‘Fine. I believe you. You two really are splendid together,’ she allowed with a warm glint in her eyes that she spared for Lord Alfred, and a nod of approval sent to Edward. ‘Besides, it is nice to see my brother is only human, too.’

‘I am curious, though,’ Alfred said and approached her. ‘How does Cecilia know that I paid a call on William?’

‘Lady Cecilia to you,’ she requested lightly.

‘I gave her her first swig of gin whilst on a hike in Wales and then made her excuses to her mother while she was “sick from seafood” in the bushes,’ he quipped and sat in Edward’s armchair opposite her. ‘So, how does Cecilia know about my private encounters?’

Charlotte was rather impressed to have met her match. She preferred this man who stood up for himself over the cowering one that bent over backwards to gain her favours in the library. But that could have been because she was holding a sharp shard of the vase at him.

‘Alright. She was dining at Claridge's and he saw you go up with him.’

‘Put two and two together and made five, did she?’

‘Well, she was dining with the Crawleys.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘What is there to see?’ Edward asked.

‘They’re dull as paint,’ Alfred explained.

‘That’s an insult to paint,’ Charlotte added.

Edward’s laugh stifled into a yawn.

‘We should turn in before the sun rises,’ Alfred said and took Edward’s hand.

Charlotte smiled, quite content in her seat with the cat and the cigar.

‘You go. The blue room awaits Lord Alfred, after all,’ she suggested knowingly.

‘You must rest, too, and stop smoking if the sleepwalking—’ Edward trailed off as he noticed the glances he was getting. ‘You were never sleepwalking.’

‘Nnno. Go, get some sleep. Just promise you’ll be down by eight.’

‘Mama said as early as eight?’

‘Nine, but you’ll help me ready the house this time. And after that, I thought we could all lunch together, you and me and Cecilia. In the garden, weather permitting.’

Alfred beamed at her. ‘See, I knew I’d like her.’

Edward opened the door to the secret passageway dreaming about his soft pillows and warm bed and the feel of Alfred’s body in his arms under the covers. The universe could not have been crueller, therefore, when they heard movement in the passageway. Edward closed the door just in time to shield them from view of whoever was running up and down his house at this hour. Checking the other’s faces, he could see it wasn’t just the whiskey gone to his head. Alfred and Cecilia had heard it too. They distinctly heard the hurried footsteps, then the garden door’s creak and its rattle as it shut, no matter how gingerly one tried to operate it.

Edward groaned internally. Would he never be allowed to sleep? He was much too tired for another mystery!


	7. Stray Cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's going on in the love nest's garden?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're new: imagine Ben Barnes in the role.
> 
> "Ah!" said the reader. "Okay, I get it, Alfred."
> 
> Yeah.

‘Is it Cecilia?’ Alfred suggested.

‘Can’t be,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I watched her leave.’

‘Mayhap she left her petticoat.’

Charlotte shot him a dark look. ‘Someone from _inside_ the house went _outside_ , Lord Genius,’ she huffed back impatiently.

While they bickered in his wake, Edward had already got on his feet and went to investigate.

‘Wood?’ he was surprised to say as he recognised his butler’s figure in the dark.

The servant stood at attention by the garden door, startled. ‘Mr Drummond! You’re downstairs!’

‘What are you doing? It’s far too early to start your shift.’

‘I was… letting the cat out.’

‘But Sir Fluff is in the smoking room.’

Alfred couldn’t help a snort. The pet name somewhat blunted the edge of Edward’s _serious voice_.

‘…Where we were. On account of my sister’s sleepwalking,’ Edward said, feeling like he owed his servant an explanation as to why he was downstairs in the small hours of the night, with his sister and his guest in tow.

‘Then, I suppose I let out someone else’s cat,’ Wood replied with a laugh that was just too nervous.

The horse in the mews neighed wildly.

‘ _Damn you, wretched creature, that’s my hat!_ ’ a man grumbled outside.

Alfred’s attention was caught at once.

‘By God!’ he said, stepping to the window. ‘I could swear that sounded just like…’

He ignored Edward’s warnings, pushed past Wood and went right outside. He snatched the top hat out of his flailing horse’s mouth, which calmed the creature and got the man’s attention.

‘William!?’

‘Alfred?’ William Peel uttered just as much in surprise. ‘I _thought_ this horse looked familiar. Hello, Horace! Still a menace, I see.’

‘What are you doing here?!’ Alfred seethed in the near-dawn darkness.

‘What’s it to you? I’m a free man. Freer than ever,’ the roguish captain replied, pushing a stray black lock of hair our of his eyes before he took a swig of an expensive silver flask.

‘What. The devil. _Were._ You. Doing here, William?’ Alfred demanded darkly.

‘Fucking the butler. You?’

Alfred just glared at him. He knew William wasn’t lying. Of course, he wasn’t. Of course, he did that. Because of course. His attire was all unbuttoned and telling. His eyes were darker than ever. Some people should not be born this handsome. For everyone’s sakes. Alfred assumed he would do something like this to get over his heartbreak, he just didn’t want to cross paths with him while he got it out of his system, certainly not at Drummond’s residence.

The sterner Alfred looked the more audaciously nonchalant Peel became.

‘What? As if you’ve never…’

Alfred hissed in reproach. ‘You should not be here, people will see.’

‘Well, I’m done here… unless you’d like me to _stay_.’

‘Shush!!’ Alfred shushed, anxious about having this conversation in a Mayfair mews where anyone could spot them from the many darkened windows of those crisp white, newly built townhouses of the nouveau riche.

‘Is this your house, then?’ Will asked, nevertheless. ‘You never said you moved out of the Palace.’

‘I did not. This is not my address.’

‘Not your butler. Good. Phew. For a minute I thought “good grief,” you know.’

‘William…’

‘Hang on, _hang_ on. I know why I’m here. Why are _you_ here if this isn’t yours? Alfred? Oh! Is this your _new beau’s_ house?’

‘Don’t be like that,’ Alfred said oddly gently and that confirmed it perfectly well.

‘Don’t worry. I see,’ William muttered and ran his hands through his dark hair to have something to do with his hands. ‘May I at least have my hat back?’

Alfred handed him back the top hat awkwardly.

‘You look well,’ William observed instead of leaving just yet. ‘Oh. He… turned out to…’

‘Yes.’

‘Well… how lucky.’

‘I _am_ lucky.’

William smiled sadly. ‘Who is it, then?’

‘Hm?’

‘Come, Alfred. Whose house is this?’

‘How did you _never_ ask the butler while you—you know what, never mind.’

‘Who? Really.’

‘I shouldn’t say.’

‘What, are you afraid I’d tell on you? Don’t you know me better than that, darling?’

‘Still. It wouldn’t be right—and don’t call me that.’

‘What shall I call you? My lord?’

‘Please don’t.’

‘I called you that a few times when we played a little game—’

‘Just button yourself up and go.’

‘I can find out who lives here easily, you know. I can just go around the block and check the façade or ask a concierge that knows the area. Or a chimney sweep. Or a newsboy. Or a knocker-upper. Or that red-head that I had to wait for to leave before I could, what’s that abou—’

‘By God, please, stop—'

‘You know what, fine. Right. I get it. Goodbye, Alfred,’ William said and nearly leaned in to kiss him out of routine but stopped himself and turned to go at last without so much as a handshake, which in turn stirred something in Alfred’s chest, something like worry.

‘Wait, are you leaving like that?’ Alfred stopped him, pointing at William’s scandalous appearance.

‘Do you care?’

‘I do care,’ Alfred insisted genuinely.

William shrugged bad-boyishly.

‘Where is home anyway?’ Alfred asked.

‘I say, that’s a question.’

‘Still staying at Claridge’s?’

‘Where else?’

‘You’ve no plans to call on Lady Peel and Sir Robert?’

Will snorted. ‘Sorry, have we met?’

‘Right. I’m sorry. I just thought, maybe this time…’

‘So did I. Sometimes we’re wrong.’

Alfred picked up on the loaded meaning.

After the night before, he thought they had parted ways forever. He just stopped by his club for a quick lunch and to catch up on his newspapers when a familiar voice called his name and asked if he could sit and sat anyway without waiting for the permission, for Alfred could not find his voice.

‘Do I look that handsome?’ William teased him from across the table with a smile that could sweep anyone off their feet and dark eyes that scanned Alfred’s appearance from head to toe, mentally undressing him already.

There was something different in him, too. Alfred couldn’t put his finger on what.

‘W-William. You’re back.’

‘So it seems, unless my compass was broken and this is the West Indies,’ Will jested and sighed contentedly at the sight of Alfred. He had dreamed of this moment for the long months it had taken him to travel home. ‘Hello,’ he said with a little laugh as if he even couldn’t believe they were finally there. ‘Aren’t you glad to see me?’

‘I… I… I wish you had written.’

‘You know me. Life at sea is hectic, to say the least. Have you ordered yet?’

‘I had just finished.’

‘A glass of white, then? I have a bottle of your favourite sauvignon in my suite at Claridge’s,’ William suggested with a subtle wink. ‘Fancy coming back with me?’

Far from flirting back, Alfred glanced cautiously around for listening ears. He folded the newspaper neatly and placed it on the crisp white table cover.

‘I am not sure that’s a good idea,’ he said uncharacteristically.

William thought he heard wrong.

‘Busy day?’

‘Rather.’

‘Later, then? Another time? Say, Wednesday?’

‘I don’t think so, William. Not anymore.’

William’s smile faded. ‘Do I find you in mourning or something—?’

‘No. You just find me preoccupied, I’m afraid.’

‘But, Alfred… I know I left in a hurry last time but I thought you’d be happy to see me.’

‘I am happy to see you well. I worried, as usual. But…’ Alfred’s heart clenched, the more he looked at Will and remembered. There were memories of excuses in the curve of his lips, the touch of a hundred other lovers in his hair, a thousand broken promises in his eyes. ‘William, you left and you left, and—’

‘And I have come back. I always come back.’

‘For two weeks, I imagine, until the admiral orders you east again—’

‘This is not a scheduled visit, Alfred. I came back for you. I missed you madly, more than you can—’

‘God, Will, no. Just no. You have missed this boat.’

‘Pardon?’

‘You have. I have a life here. Commitments. I can’t just drop everything because fancied a trip home for a fortnight’s dalliance, though I’ve no doubt you make your fun wherever you _drop your anchor_.’

‘But my darling—’

‘Shh.’

‘Alfred, I do not expect you to drop your life, you can always just…’ William began but Alfred was looking at him so coldly, his heart did a flip. ‘I thwarted my direct orders and hired a whole new crew to sail back for you.’

‘Am I supposed to be flattered?’

‘I thought you would be pleased. I have something to tell you. Something good.’

‘I, on the other hand, have nothing to tell you,’ Alfred said, getting the paper again so as to have something on which to take out his frustration.

‘Alfred? I don’t understand…’

‘Try.’

‘Hang on… commitments? Preoccupied?’

‘Why, yes.’

‘You mean there is someone else.’

‘Is that so hard to believe?’

‘By God, Alfred, you are not engaged, are you?’

‘No! Of course, I’m not eng—’

The maître d’ appeared at their table and they fell silent at once.

‘Apologies, my lord, for our staff’s negligence of this gentleman’s bothering you.’

‘He was not bothering me,’ Lord Alfred objected but the maître d’ continued as if spewing up the rulebook:

‘According to our present policies, I must ask you, Sir William, to follow me outside of the premises of the club.’

‘Do you mind, little man? I am talking to my friend here,’ William spat impatiently.

‘I’m afraid I must insist, sir.’

‘He _is_ my friend,’ Lord Alfred added, too, afraid of this blowing up. ‘We are just having a conversation.’

‘Apologies, my lord. Sir William is on our blacklist. I am under orders to remove him. No exceptions.’

‘Walk away, or so help me God,’ William said with venom.

‘If you’ll follow me, Sir W—’

William jumped on his feet. A number of nearby waiters moved in alert. Lord Alfred stepped in at once:

‘We will talk at the hotel,’ he reassured William quickly. ‘Later.’

The captain, though he could have fought his corner perfectly well, cared only about Alfred. He relaxed his clenched fists and accepted the promise for now. He left and went back to his hotel, waiting. Waiting. Waiting until after dinner. Eyes fixed on the entrance. Ample time to imagine all sorts of scenarios, each involving Alfred’s affections laying elsewhere, and each more hurtful than the other.

Had he lost him?

Finally, Alfred showed up, looking for him in the smoking lounge. One look and William came to get him and up they went, to the third-floor suite that only the lucky few could afford. It had all the comforts a man like Alfred would find dazzling and a man like William could want after months at sea. He had everything except one thing he wanted the most, or so he realised only on his most recent voyage.

It wasn’t hard to tell this meeting would be vastly different than their previous ones. If it had been a usual rendezvous, they would have already discarded their clothes and hit the bedroom, perhaps only the recamier first, which was nearer, if they had been too impatient.

This time, Alfred lingered awkwardly by the door.

‘Do sit down, darling,’ William offered, not even thinking about laying a gentle hand on the small of Alfred’s back casually.

This time, however, Alfred stepped out of reach in a clear message.

‘I shan’t stay long.’

William was dumbfounded and hurt. ‘Can I at least pour you a drop of something?’

‘Go on then,’ Alfred decided, taking off his hat. He could not get through this without something.

‘Brandy?’

‘Scotch.’

‘You changed your tastes.’

Alfred gulped. ‘Make it double.’

‘Coming right up.’

Too nervous to sit, Alfred walked around the luxurious suite until William was back with their drinks, and a small box.

‘What’s this?’

‘Did you think I’d show up without a pile of presents for you?’ the captain said.

‘I can’t…’

‘Course you can! Open it.’

Alfred did. It was an extremely elegant silver cigar case.

‘It’s beautiful,’ he said, getting sad more than anything. ‘But I could not accept it.’

‘It’s a gift,’ Will said just as sadly. ‘It’s yours. Whatever happened… _What_ happened, darling?’

‘Nothing happened,’ Alfred replied honestly because it was true.

‘But it obviously did. You have changed.’

‘If I have it is _because_ nothing ever happened,’ Alfred explained.

‘On the contrary. You and I have done more things than I could list,’ William tried naughtily but it fell on flat ears.

‘Nothing beyond you and I having a good time, you ignoring me when I pleaded for you to stay or to promise something more than nothing, and then leaving, always leaving, I couldn’t, I could not—I cannot do this, Will—’ Alfred burst out and drowned his stammer in his drink. He stuffed the cigar case in Will’s hand, too.

‘You’ve gone off me?’ William assessed in confusion, more to himself than to Alfred. ‘ _Now_ , you’ve gone off me?’

‘Why, what is “now” particularly?’

‘Is it me? Is it the beard? I’ll shave.’

‘Will…’

‘Don’t you like my new haircut? It’ll grow back, Alfred—’

‘Your hair is perfectly charming, Will.’

‘Then what is it?’

‘It’s not so much about you.’

William’s heart was drumming worse than in battle. Every beat felt like a deafening broadside.

‘Have you really found someone else?’

‘Something like that,’ Alfred admitted.

‘Not a fiancée.’

‘No,’ Alfred said, pulling a face. ‘Not a fiancée, no.’

‘A man?’

‘A gentleman.’

‘Ah. A gentleman who doesn’t sail to India every few months. Convenient. What else is he better at than I?’ William said, tracing a line up Alfred’s arm suggestively. ‘And if he knew you were here at this hour, what would he say?’

Alfred was unmoved. He was silent and forlorn.

‘Uh-oh, have I already caused trouble in paradise?’

Alfred shook his head dejectedly. He looked out the window at the city at night, gas lamps just about twinkling in the streets, knowing his love was out there and perhaps never spared even half as many thoughts to the forgettable courtier he sometimes saw at the Palace as said courtier spared him. All the same, he could swear he flirted at the Silk Ball… surely…

Meanwhile, this damnedly handsome captain stepped closer in his space, waiting for the right word, a sign, a reason.

‘Alfred, does this man… know of your interest?’

Alfred’s face said it all.

‘He doesn’t,’ William found, confused but a tad relieved. ‘So, you are not _with_ someone else.’

‘No, but…’

‘But? My darling,’ William whispered sweetly, his hand coming up to touch Alfred’s chin the way he liked it, thinking he had nothing to worry about after all. ‘I know I was away for long. But I am here now. _I_ am willing. I am yours. I _love_ you.’

Alfred’s breath hitched.

‘Excuse me?’

‘I came back early to tell you. When I left the last time, I felt a fool. I should have said then. I suppose I got scared it would muddle things, if that’s not too feeble. I was afraid I wasn’t going to return from this war and saw no point in making promises, if it meant you would be all the more hurt when you read it in the Times. But I could not wait until the campaign was over to return and tell you. If a bullet had found me before I could tell you, I would never have rested in peace. I do love you, Alfred.’

‘You. Love me.’

‘Yes. You. It’s always been you,’ William said, drawn to Alfred’s closeness, his eyes dark with warmth, passion, and apparently, love. ‘I could never settle before, but now that I have been promoted to captain, I am more at liberty to decide where to travel. Funny how that worked out; I joined the navy for freedom and I find myself bound by commands more than I would, had I gone into something else. But I am here now. I command my own ship. We could have more time. You could even come with me somewhere—not to a war. Let’s go to France. Let’s go to Italy! My cabin is not as grand as this suite, but we could warm each other…’

‘You are telling me you love me. And that you want to make plans with me,’ Alfred uttered aghast.

William smiled bashfully. ‘I know, look at me. Who is this man? I might be getting old,’ he laughed but he was quite serious and opened his heart wide. ‘I love you. Do you still love me?’

Alfred had never felt worse. But he pried William’s hands gently off himself in a clear message that washed over the captain like a cold shower.

‘Alfred? My darling?’

Alfred shook his head, his throat feeling wretchedly dry suddenly.

‘I have to go,’ he said moving away awkwardly.

‘Alfred?’ William called him gently, desperately, as it hit him. ‘Am I too late?’

‘As I said, I cannot do this anymore, Will.’

‘Oh, God, no. I _am_ too late.’

‘I wish—’

‘Are you in love with him?’

Alfred exchanged his glass of Scotch for his hat.

‘I am,’ he admitted, for the first time. The misery of this meeting was instantly pierced through a ball of warmth lighting up in his heart and he felt how true this was ever so keenly. Drummond’s face swam into his mind’s eye and he felt stronger and better for it. ‘I really am.’

‘So, that’s it, you choose him?’

‘I chose nothing. He chose me, rather.’

‘But he doesn’t even know! Are you even sure of him in that way?’

‘That does not change the way I feel about him,’ Alfred said and made his way to the door. ‘I wish you well, but this is goodbye, Will—’

Before he could leave, William was there to take his hand and raise it to his lips.

‘Please, Alfred,’ he said, kissing his fair skin, feeling the scent of oranges on his wrists that he so favoured (which he’d brought him from his Syrian adventures) and that felt like home. ‘God, please, this is futile, just stay and we can… we can talk… you haven’t even seen the other presents… stay the night, we’ll talk, open that bottle of wine, make love, watch the sunrise…’

‘I’m sorry, William. Truly,’ Alfred said, finding that William’s touch had little effect on him anymore. A part of him wanted to say yes—William had indeed been gone a long time and Alfred had not taken another lover—but it didn’t feel the same. ‘It wouldn’t be fair to you, I couldn’t be with you while I am enamoured with another man, unlike you, I am simply not built like that…’

‘But remember all the happy times we have had?’ William said, leaning into Alfred’s arms, smelling his hair as if already knowing it would soon be a memory he would never get to feel again. For a moment, Alfred was almost swayed and they held each other like always; it was so close William could almost taste it. ‘We were very happy.’

‘We were,’ Alfred allowed, and felt hands that squeezed him just a little more tightly for a second before he let Will go as gently as he could. ‘But that is in the past. I _have_ changed. And even if I had not, I cannot trust you.’

‘I promise I mean it. We can make plans. Whatever you wish. Oh, Alfred, I can give you the world but you refuse it for some… some… acquaintance who might still turn out to be the marrying kind?’

‘If he were, he would have been snatched up by now, or I would at the very least have heard ladies gossiping about him or talk of who might be betrothed to him, or soon, or—’

‘Alfred. I am here,’ William roused Alfred from his Drummond-thoughts, placing Alfred’s hand over his own heart. ‘I am real. I love you. You know me.’

‘I do know you,’ Alfred replied, coming back to earth. ‘I’m sorry for your wasted journey but I cannot help how I feel, just as I know you cannot. So what if D—the gentleman I have fallen for does not feel the same? I know only too well how horribly it hurts for one’s love not to be requited. The past years of brief affairs with you have trained me. Now you know how much pain you left me in, time and again. I take no pleasure in making you feel this way. But you broke my heart, William. I almost wish I could, but I cannot do this anymore.’

‘What if you find he’s not…’

‘I am getting older, too. Better alone than a charade.’

That was fair, even William could see it, even if it hurt so badly he felt like he was going mad. He crossed an ocean for Alfred, only to be rejected. He felt beyond sad. He felt a strange exhaustion. He also despised himself for ever making Alfred feel this wretchedly.

‘And this man, do you think he can make you happy?’ he asked, wiping embarrassing tears off his face with his shirt sleeve.

‘I don’t know,’ Alfred admitted. ‘But I have to try and see.’

‘See it soon,’ William advised him wisely. ‘Don’t waste a chance. Take that from me if nothing else.’

Will slipped the silver case in Alfred’s pocket anyway, too.

‘In case it goes sideways…’

‘William…’

‘No, wait, I only mean to say, in case he proves a disappointment, my ship is at the docks. Say you’re “Mr Wilfred Padge”. I’ll tell my crew he is to be treated like royalty and shielded from all harm. Just in case. Anytime.’

Alfred thanked him and, though it took a few minutes for Will to let go of him, his beautiful skin, his strong shoulders, his arms, his hands, his sweet hands, it had to happen in the end. William even found it in himself to wish him good luck. Alfred said the same. But he left, wondering if he had just made a big mistake.

It was, therefore, the relief of a lifetime when Edward kissed him the night after.

Of course, it would have been better if Will hadn’t shown up in Edward’s garden at the crack of dawn in a state of impropriety after drowning his sorrows in a meaningless encounter with some stranger.

‘William, I _am_ sorry,’ Alfred had to say before he let Will go. ‘Wretchedly.’

The captain fiddled with the rim of his horse-chewn hat.

‘ _I’m_ sorry,’ he replied at last. ‘Sorry about all this. Sorry about the way I acted the day before. I shouldn’t have gone to your club. Sorry about that. Sorry about messing around until I was too late. Sorry about breaking your heart. Sorry about bedding your lover’s footman.’

‘Butler.’

‘Whatever.’

‘Alfred?’ Edward called softly from the garden. If looks could kill, the captain would have dropped dead on the spot.

Instead, he gave a low whistle as he looked him up and down, from messy curls and sharp cheekbones to tartan-patterned slippers.

‘Is this him?’ he asked Alfred, putting on his naughty face to mask his true feelings. ‘Not bad. Are you exclusive?’

‘Were you leaving, sir?’ Edward stepped over sternly, reading the room right.

‘I was. Peel,’ William responded, offering his hand. ‘Captain William Peel, at your service.’

‘Edward Drummond,’ Edward replied automatically, swallowing his urge to kick this man out of his premises.

William’s forced smile froze on his handsome face.

‘Drummond, huh?’ he repeated, tasting it and throwing a gleeful smirk at Alfred, who sighed inwardly. ‘ _Drummond_. Not the Private Secretary Drummond? The Prime Minister’s secretary Drummond? _My father’s_ secretary Drummond?’

‘The very one,’ Edward replied, straightening up to his full, dignified height.

‘And I thought I’d seen everything.’

Edward’s jaw clenched. ‘I am used to less informal introductions, Sir William, therefore I must ask you to leave us in peace. Should our paths, by a stroke of misfortune, cross again in more appropriate hours, I expect you to pretend this encounter never happened. I shall certainly attempt to forget it with all my might.’

‘I hope we can remain friends,’ Alfred added to soften the edge of Edward’s words.

‘Friends?’ Will pulled an apologetic face. ‘I once ate melted chocolate off your belly, Alfred, I’m not sure I could—’

‘Right, that’s it,’ Edward stepped up and ushered Will towards the mews and, hopefully, out of his life.

‘Right. I understand. I’ll take my leave, _Drummond_. I wish you all the happiness in the world,’ the captain quipped with a nervous laugh. ‘Might I just make one small remark, just before I step out of your love nest: I believe there is a man with binoculars crouched on your rooftop.’


	8. At Your Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The butler's wild evening off as it happened so far and beyond (spy alert!).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I've never written this kinda stuff. *drinks*

Silver spoons. Done. Silver forks. Done. Knives. Done. Silver candelabras, silver tea strainers, silver sugar tongs, done, done, and done.

Wood looked up was sorry to see that he still had two dozen items to clean and polish. Dully sparkling objects that each cost more than his year’s wages were still spread over the length of the kitchen table, awaiting a good scrubbing.

The doorbell rang. Not this, too. His mood notwithstanding, he swapped his gloves for his uniform and went upstairs with a perfectly neutral expression on his face. No one could tell he was up to his starched collar with work today. Still, it was a good place and he could have done a lot worse for an Eastbourne fisherman’s son who was not yet 25.

It was a page boy with a note.

‘From Mr Drummond.’

‘Thank you.’

No tip today. Mr Drummond sent page boys to his address so many times these days, even he would have had to be bailed out by the bank if his butler spared a coin every time he messaged home about an unexpected dinner invitation. Those were a near daily occurrence these days. The man was certainly popular and of a high status, not to mention easy on the eyes. The butler wondered how he would cope when this house would be filled with children.

He checked the note. The Palace, again? Perhaps Mr Drummond had his work on his mind quite a lot more than marriage. Westminster not being enough, he was eager to move in the absolute highest circles. Or perhaps the queen just had the best chef in town. At any rate, Wood knew he had better go and prepare the gentleman’s best and cleanest evening attire by the time he arrived home to change in a rush as usual.

‘Where’s my good comb, Wood?’ Mr Drummond asked as he put a drop of cologne behind his starched, white, high collars for the third time.

‘I am just cleaning the silver, sir,’ the butler replied. ‘This ivory one will do just fine.’

‘Alright then,’ Drummond said, checking his pocket watch anxiously. He sat in a chair so that Wood could tame his curls, which started to rebel after a long day at the House. ‘Just as long as I am neat and tidy and, most importantly, on time. I mustn’t make Lord A—Her Majesty think I am a tardy layabout.’

‘I daresay there is no danger of anyone having that opinion of you, sir,’ Wood replied reassuringly. ‘Done.’

‘You are a wonder, Wood,’ Drummond said, checking himself again in the mirror like a total dandy. ‘Are you sure this cravat goes?’

‘It’s burgundy, exactly like your coat, sir.’

‘But is it not too dull? I have worn it before to the Palace.’

‘I understand, one wants to impress Her Majesty.’

‘Who? Oh. Yes. Right. One wants to impress her, certainly. And others. I mean, you know how courtiers can be. They have a splendid eye for the latest fashions. I cannot seem shabby tonight.’

‘Your attire is flawless, sir, if I do say so myself.’

‘Perhaps a brooch… CHARLOTTE! CHARLOTTE!!!’

‘I’m afraid Miss Drummond is still running her errands in the city, sir.’

Drummond sighed. Alas, he had no time to spare for his sister’s antics right now, when he wanted to look his best for Lord Alfred— _for Her Majesty_. For Her Majesty. For the _whole_ royal entourage. Really.

All the same, he wondered what Lord Alfred would wear. Would he wear blue again? It suited him so splendidly. Blue, like his eyes. And those eyelashes…

‘Well, then, this will do,’ Edward decided, seeing the clock really did urge him to get going now. ‘I am not sure when I’ll be back. If I am much too late, do not wait up. In fact, I will probably get in quite late. If you had any personal errands of your own, you’ll have the whole evening to complete them.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ the butler said gratefully at the door as Mr Drummond ran to hail a cab.

While the gentleman would dine at the first address of the country, the butler returned to the kitchen. However, when he saw the mountain of still yet-to-be-cleaned silver, he said “to hell with it” and took Mr Drummond’s advice.

His errands were over quickly, given it was around closing time in every shop. He knew he should have been home to be in when Miss Drummond got home, but she was so unpredictable one never knew when that would be. Therefore, Wood saw no harm in popping into the pub on the corner.

He was on his second pint when someone dropped a bunch of sailing ropes on the counter and ordered two double-whiskeys, neat.

When old Morris served him, the tall, dark, and surprisingly dashing man poured one into the other glass, making a quadruple serving, and downed it like it was iced lemonade on a hot summer’s day.

‘Another, please,’ he told the bartender and did the same.

Wood only remembered not to stare when it was too late. He saw.

‘Yes?’ the man challenged him, though not entirely hostilely.

Wood just shook his head apologetically and pretended to find something fascinating to gaze at in his pint.

‘Another,’ the man ordered.

‘Keep that up and I’ll throw you a bottle on your way out, lad,’ Morris said, though he poured as told, once a sparkly coin was tossed him.

‘Wouldn’t be the first time,’ the man said in a clear accent despite the drinks, and it occurred to Wood that this was a gentleman, despite his demeanour. His clothes were telling, too. Expensive silk, neatly brushed top hat, a black coat that fit his fine figure like a glove… this man was gorgeous.

‘What are you walking around with those ropes for, then, lad?’ Morris asked.

‘That’d be telling. And it’s “captain” to you.’

‘In here, it’s get your dirty stuff off me counter, lad!’

‘I do beg your—’

‘Don’t mind him,’ Wood interrupted before a fight broke out. Morris left to serve others at the far end of the counter, grumbling to himself. ‘He’s always like this. I think half the patrons come in just to get a bashing from old Morris for the most trivial things. It’s almost a tradition.’

The captain casually leaned against the counter and turned his way. Wood was alarmed to notice he was twice as handsome from the front as in profile.

‘You come here often?’ the captain asked.

‘Me? I don’t get out much.’

‘Just popped out to the pub, did you?’

‘Something like that.’

‘You live nearby?’

‘I do.’

‘You don’t look it.’

‘I do live here, in Mayfair. In a house I don’t own. Walter Wood, butler.’

The man shook his hand but did not introduce himself. Instead, he licked his lips unashamedly.

‘The cat’s away, I take it,’ he remarked, his dark eyes sizing up Wood rather forwardly all the while.

Wood adjusted his glasses unnecessarily. He was glad Morris was out of earshot. He would have spotted what was going on and thrown them both out in a jiffy. He sensed that this man, even if he was a gentleman, was trouble, but the trouble was Wood could have used a bout of trouble, particularly if it was this handsome. He always had more luck with men anyway. Women wanted to go to the dansants and get presents and marry and he didn’t have the funds for all that just yet. He would settle one day. But that day had not come just yet.

‘Why _do_ you carry these ropes?’ Wood asked daringly.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know,’ the captain replied and grinned into his third quadruple whiskey that he poured for himself.

‘Are they for your ship?’

‘Ropes have many uses.’

‘Such as?’

The captain just drank elusively, though not taking his eyes off Wood.

‘Are you sailing out soon, then?’

‘Not sure. Might do. I’ve nothing to keep me in England anymore, so…’ and with that, the captain finished this drink, too, his eyes hardening. ‘Well,’ he said, grabbing his ropes and leaving too many coins in its place but he didn’t care enough to count them. Let them have it, they who needed them more than him. ‘This was fun. Tell your master I envy him for having such a handsome butler.’

The captain stumbled out of the pub, seeming a little lost as to where next. Wood watched him hesitate on the curb and it struck him that the ropes were for something ominous. He also noticed something under the bar.

‘Wait, sir,’ Wood said, catching the captain outside the pub. ‘You dropped one,’ he said and handed him a bundle of ropes.

The captain gave him a lingering gaze, like he was surprised, at first and then accepted it.

‘Thank you.’

‘Are you well, captain?’ Wood was compelled to ask.

‘Peachy,’ he replied flatly.

‘Are you sure? I can see you back to your address safely—’

‘How about I see you back to yours?’

Wood gulped at the implication. ‘Well, I…’

‘Don’t you want to know how to use these ropes for certain purposes?’ the gorgeous captain teased him, stepping closer, pedestrians be damned. ‘I am rather an expert at knots.’

‘Well, I… it’s… my master will—’

‘Forget about your master for a second. He is away, is he not?’

‘Well, yes, but…’

‘Imagine you are your own master,’ the captain said in a most private, captivating, and exciting voice, just to him, which brought redness to Wood’s cheeks. ‘Imagine the grand house where you reside is one you own. You can do anything you want, come and go as you please, invite whomever you want. Order about whomever you want. Well, Mr Wood? Do you want me?’

Wood felt hot under his collar.

‘How about this?’ the captain went on. ‘I _was_ going to go to my ship tonight and drink until I passed out.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I find that I rather despise myself tonight. In fact, I don’t want to be myself tonight. I want to be someone wholly different. Just for a little while, just to forget my woes and worries. Don’t you ever feel this way, sir?’

‘Perhaps, I do,’ the ambitious butler admitted.

‘Well, then, why don’t we help each other out?’

‘W-what do you mean?’

‘Let’s play a game. A kind of game of pretence. Roles, like a theatre, like a round of Charades. For the remainder of the evening, I shall pretend to be a common man, just an ordinary sailor in search of service on land, happy to do anything, _anything_ to make ends meet. Meanwhile, you shall be my master, my boss, my lord upon whom I wait with bated breath and for whom I shall perform any act whatsoever. Perhaps with these ropes involved?’ he winked.

‘C-c-captain—’

‘Shhh… don’t call me that tonight… I am at your service, _sir_ ,’ the captain said, taking off his hat.

‘You… you took off your hat,’ Wood noted. No gentleman had ever given him that show of respect. He was being serious.

‘Lead the way to your address and I shall take off more than that… _my lord_.’

He had just tied the captain’s wrists to the bedpost when he froze because he heard Miss Drummond get in and sprint right up to her room. Well, that was lucky! She did that sometimes and then bit the head off anyone who dared bother her by breathing near her door let alone knock on it.

‘What? Won’t you ever take your clothes off?’ the captain urged impatiently.

‘I thought I gave the orders,’ Wood replied hotly against his lover’s thirsty lips but not close enough to be kissed, frustratingly and yet excitingly.

The captain seemed to like that. ‘Have you ever slapped someone?’ he asked breathily.

‘C-can’t say I have.’

‘Well, now you’re going to.’

‘No, I… I mean, I can’t…’

‘Come on, you can do it.’

‘Why, I…’

‘I’m asking you to, I beg you!’

‘But…’

‘Come ON, just slap me, just once—’

Wood did just that. He had no time to be fully surprised as the moan he elicited was one he wanted to hear more of.

‘Do it agai—’

Another slap. ‘I said I give the orders.’

Naturally, Mr Drummond chose this night to want to have a guest. Worse, he suggested the Oriental Room! TONIGHT? Wood remained seemingly neutral but he was internally immensely relieved that it was so easy to convince him to send Lord Alfred in the Blue Room instead, for the Oriental was unavailable. Not for a bad fireplace. Because of the captain tied to the bedposts and awaiting his “master” blindfolded.

The butler kept on his impeccable, neutral face all throughout the conversation. And then he was sent to bed. Oh, he was eager to go back to bed, make no mistake.

If Wood gagged the captain with a neckerchief, it was only because a) he asked for it, and b) he threatened to be loud just when Wood could distinctly hear Mr Drummond and Lord Alfred walk past the door and retire to their respective bedrooms.

The captain wanted this, and he wanted a whole series of other, even stranger, wilder things performed in that room. Wood learned a dozen sailor’s knots that night.

By the time the captain was satisfied, the house had gone quiet.

Wood dressed in silence while his surprise lover dozed off in the bed, wrists freed and oddly peaceful, which was a huge contrast to their encounter thus far. Perhaps he ought to have felt bad for encouraging such behaviour from this man that so clearly wanted to supress something, but he had a feeling the wild events of the night had done him good. This man was gorgeous, far above Wood’s usual, obtainable type. As a lover, he was _creative_ , to say the least. And he really meant what he had said—the room had seen them roleplay multiple different people with backgrounds and stories and statuses, there were names, locations, scenarios.

But look, Wood thought to himself, how sweet the captain looked as he shifted on his side after a loose strand of hair tickled his nose. Could they meet again, he wondered? Surely, if he only wanted the random butler he met in a pub for _that_ , he’d have been in and out of the pantry and called it a night.

Wood put on his glasses and went to check the mews from the window.

‘It should be safe now,’ he said, gently rousing the captain from his nap.

‘Wh—Alfred?’

‘It’s Walt,’ Wood corrected him bemusedly. Typical, just as he began to have fancies that maybe, just maybe this bloke would appreciate him for more than just a fumble in the dark, he had to be brought down a peg. He didn’t even know his name. But then, that was mutual. And now he didn’t even want to know.

‘The house has gone quiet,’ he repeated. ‘You can leave unseen now.’

‘Oh, huh, hm…’ the captain mumbled and started to dress carelessly.

It was the most awkward two minutes this house had seen, Wood was sure of that. The captain stretched and cracked his bones and barely bothered with his buttons. One could hear the hallways creak from the wind, or from the sheer embarrassment now that all the illusions were gone. No goodbyes were said—perhaps the guest was too intoxicated to remember his manners or simply did not care—as Wood opened the door gingerly.

That’s when they heard a big crash from downstairs.

Wood pushed the captain back into the room at once.

‘Change of plans, _my lord_?’ the captain sniggered arrogantly. ‘Want some more? Switch roles this time?’

‘Shhh!’ Wood hissed, actually _wanting_ to get rid of his handsome mistake now, and listened.

Great, Miss Drummond hurried down the steps.

And then Mr Drummond.

And then Lord Alfred.

Excellent.

The captain rubbed the sleep out of his eyes vigorously.

‘I need a piss,’ he said crudely.

‘Excuse me?’

‘ _Sorry_. I need to _wash up_ somewhere, if the _master_ of this house allows, whichever one. Where might I do that, _please, oh, please_?’

‘There is a washstand in the dressing room behind the peacock.’

‘The what—cock—what?!’

‘The _wallpaper_ , over there.’

‘Oh. Huh. How amusing! I must get that for my house… or get a house first… somewhere nice… somewhere inland… like… Bedfordshire…’

Wood cared little about the fancies of this strange, wild man and listened with bated breath. If there was an intruder in the house, it was his responsibility to take care of it. If the cat had broken something again, it was his responsibility to take care of it. If anything in the house needed attention, at this hour, it was his sole responsibility to—

Someone was in the garden. A hooded figure fell clumsily into the begonias from the library window and waved to someone in the house. The captain came up behind Wood to watch, too. The person’s hood slipped, revealing a loud red head of hair with uneven curls from where the lady had worn it in ringlets during the day.

‘The mistress of the house? Or a housemaid?’

‘No,’ Wood said, aghast. ‘That is most definitely not someone from this household, upstairs or downstairs. Nevertheless,’ he turned more soberly to his barely standing guest whose whiskey breath was starting to make his stomach turn. _What had he done?_ The day was almost dawning! He barely had a couple of hours before the morning to fix up the room and to vanish every last bit of evidence of what he had done. ‘Whoever it was, they’re gone. This means I can finally get you out of here safely.’

‘Lead the way, Mr _Wood,_ ’ the captain snorted to himself and followed the butler down not the main staircase but a narrower, steeper one behind the panelling. He was used to this, despite being the Prime Minister’s son. He had practically grown up in the crammed quarters of ships and battlefields and ships and battlefields. Besides, this was hardly his first time exiting through the servants’ entrance.

Even though his tasks were still awaiting, Wood was relieved it was over when he closed the garden door as gently as he could.

Alas, not gently enough.

‘Mr Drummond! You’re downstairs!’

Did he or Miss Drummond or their guest buy his excuses? It seemed like it. Wait, no! Surely, Lord Alfred would only go out to the garden to chase away that stranger he did not know…

…so when they clearly heard the captain announce what he had just done with the butler in the house, Wood’s blood ran cold. He felt pins and needles on the sides of his face and his legs were trembling far more than from what the captain did in the bedroom.

The ticking of the grandfather clock was deafening in the silence. Mr Drummond had never looked so angry.

‘M-Mr Dr—’

‘I shall deal with you later,’ Edward said coldly and went out to the garden to ward off Captain Peel as that seemed like the first of his troubles to sort out and Alfred was anxiously shushing the scoundrel. He needed Edward’s help. He had to protect him. Yes, that was it, he was being protective. Not jealous. Not at all.

Charlotte noticed that the butler was shaking and shivering. So much for his talent of dissembling. He may have had his fun in a role upstairs but reality came to hit him like a ton of bricks.

‘It’s not that bad, you can relax, Wood,’ she said carefully.

‘N-n-not that bad?’ the butler stammered anxiously. ‘That’s me finished, Miss Drummond! Job what? Reference who? God help me, I’ll get out of the house within the hour if you don’t report me, Miss, I beg you—!’

‘No need to beg me, Wood, good grief!’ she shot him down. ‘You have done nothing. No one is going to report you. But you must wait.’

‘Miss… I wonder if you understand…’

‘I understand perfectly, thank you.’

‘Then you’ll know that Mr Drummond will surely not allow me to keep serving him, or yourself, or Sir Robert Peel when he comes for tea.’

‘Then he would be a dashed hypocrite. Now shush, I want to hear what they’re saying—'

‘WHAT!?' Edward screeched outdoors loudly enough for the whole street.

William was quick to stuff the top hat on Drummond’s curls and to heave an arm around his shoulders as if they had been lifelong pals.

‘Shh, don’t look now, my good man, do not look,’ he advised quietly. ‘Alfred? Be a dear and check if he’s still there.’

Alfred pretended to check on his horse so as to mask his movements while he looked upwards to the roof extremely covertly. He felt his heart sink as he spotted the man with the binoculars, just as Will said.

‘By God, he is! He’s _watching us_ ,’ Alfred reported in a fearful whisper.

‘I am guessing it is not your regular chimney sweep having an early start,’ William asked tensely.

‘It is not. Miss Drummond warned us about a spy.’

‘A spy?! What sort of business can a spy have around here? Is it the Whigs after my father’s secrets? What’s he done this time?’

‘It will be my parents’ private investigator, to check on my sister, if you must know,’ Edward confessed reluctantly. He really wished the captain would keep a distance and stop acting like they’re excellent good friends. They were not and he was not keen on changing that, not in the slightest.

‘Your sister needs to be checked on by a hired P. I.? What does she get up to!? Ooh, the redhead in the cloak!’

‘Never mind that now,’ Alfred stepped in.

‘But who was she?’

‘Just Cecilia, now, focus—’

‘Ha! Of course, it was, the saucy minx. I miss her. How is she?’

Will yelped as Alfred pinched him on the arm.

‘Concentrate, please,’ he demanded furiously. ‘What do we do?’

‘Drummond, was it, Drummond?’ William said, nonchalantly fixing the man’s collars as an excuse to stay in whispering distance. ‘Have you any weapons in this splendid house of yours?’

‘Weapons?’ Edward frowned disgustedly.

‘Weapons, yes, weapons: guns, rifles, pistols, crossbows, sabres, anything sharp or pointy.’

‘I believe all we have are kitchen knives.’

‘Really? Not even a decorative sword that one of your Highland ancestors once wielded about and which now sits over the mantlepiece? Alfred, darling, are you really enamoured by this man? I mean I do see it— _those cheekbones and those shoulders!_ —but honestly.’

‘Enough, you,’ Alfred hissed at him nastily. ‘Won’t stoking irons do? Let us just go inside and catch the bastard.’

‘That’s more like it!’ the captain rejoiced, as if a treat was in store. ‘Lead the way!’


	9. Into Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edward, Charlotte, Alfred, William, and poor Wood work together to catch the intruder that's been spying on them all night. They may disagree on the methods but they must find a way to work together.

Wood thought he was in for a massive dressing down and possibly a one-way ticket to the gallows when Mr Drummond returned to the library with not only Lord Alfred but the captain in tow.

Charlotte didn’t like this.

‘What’s happened, what were you whispering about out there?’ she addressed her very vexed brother. ‘Who is this, what’s going on? It’s not… is it?’

Lord Alfred ushered them all in a circle around the broken vase and made the introduction even while massaging his temples.

‘Miss Drummond, this is Captain William Peel, the one and only. William, Charlotte Drummond, the woman who is going to murder me when this is all over.’

‘You bet I will,’ she said, reluctantly letting the captain shake her hand. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Funny story, Mr Wood and I met at the pub and—’ Will began but Edward interrupted promptly:

‘It appears we have a spy in the house, after all,’ he said as if he should have liked to burst skywards from annoyance. ‘Or rather, on the house. We saw a man on the roof with binoculars and he was definitely watching us. Goodness knows how he climbed up there. It’ll be the P.I. Mama and Papa sent on you, Charlotte.’

‘No...!’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so. Figures they’d have picked this night of all, really. Some stranger comes sniffing around on the one night that it appears my house has been mistaken for the high street of Scandal Town by everyone around me.’

Alfred was surprised to see that Edward shot him a cold glance as well.

‘What have I done?’ he asked but Edward went on, business first:

‘Now, we’ve no way of telling how much that damned cad has learned of the ongoings in my house…’

‘ _Our_ house,’ Charlotte pointed out under her breath.

‘…but one thing is certain: we must take care of him before he talks.’

Charlotte cursed softly under her breath.

‘Please, a lady is present,’ William quipped to her.

She shot him a dirty look and spoke up: ‘Should we not call for the police?’

Charlotte heard four firm replies of “No!”, and that was that on the subject.

‘But what can we do about it?’ she asked.

‘That is what we are here to discuss,’ Alfred declared, though he had no suggestions of his own.

No one did.

The captain rolled his eyes at this lack of initiative.

‘Well, we shall have to improvise,’ he said, ‘more than I would have liked, because this pen-pushing secretary’s house doesn’t even hold a proper weapon for these occasions!’

Edward huffed indignantly. ‘Unlike some, I do not often land myself in such wild situations as—'

‘A weapon?’ Charlotte interjected. ‘I have one. I have a pistol.’

‘You WHAT?’ Edward screamed, she ignored him.

‘It’s in my safe. Under my bed. Would it do?’

‘Do? Why, Miss Drummond, take me to your bed this second!’ Will said lewdly. ‘Well, there’s something I never thought I’d say to a lady.’

‘I’m not a lady. Alfred,’ she turned to him instead as he seemed the best suited to avert a crisis smoothly. ‘What are we actually to do? We cannot kill a man.’

‘No, we cannot,’ Alfred agreed passionately.

‘Hang on,’ Will turned to him. ‘Don’t you have a licence to—’

‘Only if Her Majesty is in direct and immediate danger! Do you see her anywhere around here?’

‘No, but…’

‘William, no.’

‘If we said—’

‘NO.’

‘But what if—’

‘We are not going to kill a man!’

‘Fine. Spoilsport. But we are going to scare him, are we not?’ William reasoned nonchalantly. ‘Hello, Mr Wood, miss me? Why don’t you show me to the kitchen? We’ll need knives, stoking irons, anything we can use.’

‘To do what?!’ Edward questioned disgustedly.

‘Stowaways are either captured, forced to cooperate, or thrown in the sea.’

‘I will remind you that this is a house, my home, a respectable address, not a mucky battleship, and you are not its captain.’

‘How’s my dear Papa, Drummond? Hanged any men for making love of late?’ Will snapped.

Edward fell silent. Alfred stroked his upper arm in sympathy.

‘As I was saying,’ the captain continued, ‘all of you, grab something suitable and let us meet here for strategy in five minutes.’

‘I shan’t grab anything, sir,’ Edward insisted indignantly.

‘Oh? I feel sorry for poor Alfred now! That sounds a most disappointing attitude.’

‘I meant _weapons_!’

‘Fine, if you so wish your dear sister to be carted away to a convent, what’s it to me? Then again, she may enjoy the company of only women. Alas, I fear Lady Cecilia might get lonely.’

Charlotte made a sound of outrage. Alfred put a calming hand on her arm this time.

‘You can kill him later,’ he told her privately.

‘How does he—’ she growled.

‘ _Later_.’

‘I have never harmed my fellow men and I shan’t begin now,’ Edward declared above all voices.

‘What are you going to do? Talk him around?!’ Will asked.

‘It cannot hurt to try.’

‘This is no time for diplomacy. What’s your plan? You’ll jump on him and make him tea!? Make him accept a check that your father can double anytime?’

‘I don’t know. I only know this: this is my house and I have promised to protect my loved ones. I will not let them get hurt. Over my dead body. _Let life be short: else shame will be too long._ But I must be myself as I do so. Save your commands, sir, I’ve no need of them, nor of weapons.’

‘But we are on the offensive, Drummond! Alfred, tell him!’

But Alfred was too swept off his feet by Edward to listen. The way he was looking at Edward was like the sting of a blade in William’s heart and he fell silent.

‘What if it goes wrong?’ Charlotte asked, thinking ahead. ‘What if it does end in the police showing up or the need for a medic?’

‘Then we… we call for one, I suppose, and comply with their ways,’ William answered more seriously. ‘I shall disappear before they show but I shall take all the blame. By the time a warrant is issued against my person, I shall have set sail somewhere. This way, we are all free.’

‘But you would never be able to return to England,’ Alfred pointed out.

‘That’s true! Finally, an idea I can get behind,’ Edward said gladly.

‘I have not readied the house yet,’ Wood spoke up at last. ‘It must be done before we attack this intruder… uh, sir.’

The captain bit back a grin. ‘Good thinking, Mr Wood. Perhaps we could also find another use for those ropes I forgot upstairs?’

‘The WHAT?’ Edward exclaimed.

‘Shh, my love,’ Alfred soothed him. ‘Not the time.’

‘But—but—but—’

‘What Edward means to say,’ Alfred turned to Will, ‘is that ropes would be excellent. Where are they?’

‘In the Oriental Room, your lordship,’ Wood confessed with eyes closed as if in prayer this was not real.

‘Ah. Well. Let us go and get them. Miss Drummond, you take Sir William to your room. Edward, my dearest, please see to it that your room bears no evidence of my staying there.’

‘You want me to clean my own room?’ Edward asked.

‘Scrubbing the deck, darling, just scrubbing our own deck…’

‘Yes, yes, yes, the storm and all,’ Edward seethed in annoyance, though he softened as soon as Alfred gave him a convincing kiss.

‘So are we on?’ William asked, not keen on seeing that again. ‘Is Operation Save Miss Drummond good to go?’

‘If you think I’m going to be the damsel—’ Charlotte snapped.

‘Oh, Charlotte, no need to be so emotional,’ Edward made the mistake of saying and she was anything but when she addressed all in a cold and clear voice next:

‘Look. There. The day is already dawning. Mama and Papa will arrive for breakfast at nine sharp. We’ve less than three hours to capture some strange man that’s observed us in our most private moments. I understand that it is my fault that we are in this situation, but it is not my neck on the line. I do not care about what happens to me, but I will not have you ruined and I will _not_ leave Cecilia alone when she’s had such a hard time of late. All of you, gentlemen, will do as the captain says until the investigator is taken down one way or another. Let me be quite clear: I don’t care what it takes. I want this man silenced, the captain and Lord Alfred out of here, and this house sparkling clean by the time the day staff arrives and our parents are on our doorstep. Understood?’

She took the men’s stunned silence as a yes.

‘Good. Wood, start with this wretched vase. Captain? Follow me.’

In the Oriental, Wood found Alfred untying the complicated knots of ropes left tellingly around the bedposts of the four-poster bed. He got to fixing the bedsheets promptly.

They didn’t speak for a long time as they worked away.

‘Lord Alfred,’ Wood broke the silence timidly. ‘You ought to know, I had no idea…’

‘I know,’ Alfred said calmly, though he didn’t meet the butler’s eyes.

‘If I had known…’

‘You couldn’t have.’

‘But Mr Drummond…’

‘…will come around just as soon as Sir William is gone. I promise. I shall see to it. We won’t give you away, as I trust nor will you.’

‘Of course, not, my lord.’

‘Then, it’s alright. Really.’

‘But, your lordship—’

‘Oh, Wood, really, now,’ Alfred said and helped with the finishing touches of the bed. ‘You’re not the first manservant to have to deal with trouble left behind by Sir William. By God, you are not the first man of any walk of life, to be honest. The trick is to move on. He will.’

Alfred gathered the ropes in a bundle and handed them to the butler.

‘Was he…’ he had to ask, though, curiosity taking the better of him. ‘Was he already here when you opened the door for me?’

Wood mentally cursed himself. ‘I’m afraid he was, my lord,’ he admitted.

‘Really?’ Alfred asked, impressed. ‘You got dressed, prepared Drummond for bedtime, and greeted me at the door, all the while… I would never have guessed. I mean, you took care to take my horse around to the mews!’

‘I believe the captain enjoyed being made to wait.’

Alfred almost laughed out loud. Until his smile faded upon the butler’s next words:

‘I suspected, also, that he had intended to use these ropes for something else last night, something grim, being in such a self-destructive spirit. I had the idea that as long as he was here and spending time with me, he would do nothing that caused real harm. I see why he’d ask for… things… Best act it out rather than act on it, that I see.’

Alfred stared at him with a gaping mouth.

‘W-what makes you say this?’

‘Just the way he spoke in the pub. He gave his money away all carelessly. He spoke elusively. He seemed lost, like he’d given up.’

Alfred’s heart did a flip. He expected William to handle rejection badly but not like this.

‘Well, then, I am… glad you were there,’ he heard himself say kindly but his mind was reeling.

‘Ah well, I might have been seeing things,’ the butler said uncomfortably, adjusted his glasses, and left for the kitchen with the ropes around his shoulders.

Charlotte led the captain into her room.

‘Disappointing. I expected frills and flowers—OI!’ William yelped as he was suddenly held against the door by her elbow.

‘I will say this once because we are short on time,’ she said dangerously clearly. ‘As soon as this is over, you will vanish from our lives forever. If you give my brother or Lord Alfred an ounce more grief, you will have to thank me for what comes next. Understood?’

‘Hm, Cecilia does like them feisty—OW! Alright, alright! I’ll leave them alone. Crystal clear.’

After just one more glare, she let him go.

‘Might I just point out,’ Will added and she moved to attack him again, ‘that you still have your robe on inside out.’

She looked at herself.

‘Oh. Well, if we’re going to hunt a man down, I should wear something more supporting,’ she said and rushed behind her screen. ‘You don’t mind, do you?’

‘Not in the slightest,’ the captain replied, nosing about the room in the meantime.

‘Do you need any help, miss?’ he joked.

‘I would rather eat dirt, thank you,’ she replied without hesitation.

‘Do you normally manage without help?’

‘I’m, uh, between maids, if you must know.’

‘Can’t say I can relate to that… Ohoho! What are these? Drawings? Good Lord, is this her?!’

Charlotte would have tackled him if she hadn’t been fixing her jumps.

‘Why, I say, you got all her angles… and _curves_.’

‘Put those down, sir!’ she grumbled while tucking her shirt into her trousers as fast as she could.

‘I wonder if you could draw me like this.’

‘I beg your pardon!?’

‘Seriously. If I should die a hero, they might want to make a statue of me and I want to rest in peace knowing that it is as anatomically faithful as can be.’

‘The fact your mind even goes there, sir…’

‘Why, I’m a captain and a Peel. I have to think about these things!’

She reappeared, fully dressed, and snatched her drawings back. ‘Do you ever think about anything other than your anatomy, sir?’

‘Not frequently, no,’ Will said nonchalantly. ‘But you might tell me where this gun of yours is now.’

‘Move the chaise, it’s in the safe under the carpet.’

William did as told.

‘What did you mean by a hard time?’ he quipped nosily meanwhile.

‘Sorry?’ she replied at his backside.

‘Cecilia. You said she was having a hard time. Hard how?’

‘How do you know her anyway?’

‘From society, I don’t know. Through Alfred, I suppose. She is awfully fun but I’m rarely in England, so…Aha! Not bad. Why did you get this?’ he asked once he’d found the pistol, feeling its weight and size.

Charlotte looked at it regretfully.

‘It was because of her. Cecilia,’ she said, despite herself. ‘The truth is, she’s not been allowed anywhere unless it is to go to a ball or to tea where she might be paraded around and meet, you know, a husband. I don’t think her stepfather has ever liked her very much, but ever since she set his billiard table on fire—’

‘She what!?’

‘It was an ACCIDENT! Anyway, she’s been under lock and key. Even her meals are taken upstairs to her room for her to eat alone.’

‘She can’t be very pleased by that,’ he said disgustedly.

‘She is not. Luckily, the ivy rack runs right up to her mews-side window.’

Will grinned. ‘Excellent.’

‘I’m glad you’re amused,’ she said sardonically.

‘I am. Neither your brother nor yourself are the marrying kind. That’s lucky.’

‘I had no idea until tonight if you must know. Nor did he.’

‘What!’

‘He’s the private secretary! Mr Moral High Ground! He was about to be engaged, for God’s sake.’

‘Engaged?’

‘Don’t get your hopes up. He’s not going to marry now. I think he might be _happy_ ,’ she said, surprised at this strange turn of events. ‘Just don’t mess this up, Captain. I wouldn’t put it past my parents to book me a room in a convent indeed, or better yet, an asylum. Cecilia needs a friend.’

‘A friend. Right,’ he winked.

‘When she first started coming over, it wasn’t because we were… it wasn’t for…’

‘The nudes?’

‘…right. She remembered me from a poetry club reading and she needed a friend and to get away from being treated like a worm on a fishhook.’

‘A water-related metaphor? Appreciated.’

She pinched the bridge of her nose.

‘And here we are now,’ he remarked heavily. ‘With a private eye checking on you in the dead of night.’

‘I envy you, you know. I wish I could just sail the seas as I please and not give a fig about anything I leave behind.’

‘Careful what you wish for.’

‘I’m sorry, are _you_ telling me to be careful?’

‘Fair enough. How much longer do you think you can keep this up?’

She shrugged feebly.

‘Load that,’ she said. ‘We must get back to the library and meet the others.’

‘You load it,’ he said, stuffing the pistol in her hands.

‘Me?’

‘Why, of course. It’s yours. You defend the fort.’

Strangely, despite her dislike of him on principle as Edward’s sister, she felt compelled to trust the captain.

‘But for the love of Poseidon, hold it with a steadier wrist than that!’ he commanded and she followed him downstairs.

Alfred found Edward in his bedroom, which was impeccably tidy, except for the corner of the bedsheets that were folded back as if in the wake of Edward slipping out of bed after sleeping.

‘Well done, I am impressed!’ he said.

‘These are yours,’ Edward replied business-like, handing Alfred his clothes. Alfred accepted them. ‘I made sure the blue room seems slept in, also.’

Alfred sensed thin ice below his feet, so he put on his stockings, shoes, trousers, and cravat silently and obediently. Edward was clearly troubled but he found it in himself to fix Alfred’s collar without being asked.

‘Thank you.’

Edward looked up but his smile did not reach his eyes.

‘Edward, what have I done?’

‘What do you mean?’ Edward pretended.

‘Please, my love,’ Alfred said, stepping right up close to him, big blue eyes intent on capturing Edward’s gaze. ‘If you don’t tell me, I won’t know.’

‘If you don’t know, I can’t tell you,’ Edward said sulkily.

‘Do you wish I’d never come here? I did not intend for this night to go this way. Truly.’

‘I know.’

‘But?’

Edward bit his bottom lip.

‘Speak to me,’ Alfred asked. And still Edward kept silent. ‘You’re judging me, are you not? You wonder how I could ever associate with William.’

‘It does make me wonder whether you would prefer me to start cursing and drinking and to do… whatever he did or does or… In _my_ house!’

‘Edward. Please never be like him.’

‘We must have some common traits if we share you as a common denominator.’

‘Darling, I cannot name two men more different than you and William.’

‘I should hope not! I will never want to be like him. If you find that boring—'

‘Edward, I love you so much I can’t remember what it was like to love him like that anymore. I don’t remember because we never admitted it. Not at the same time. It was all under cover of the dark. If I hadn’t been so terribly lonely, I’d never have. You and I love each other in the light, with pride. We do love each other, don’t we?’

‘Of course.’

‘Good, then, as the man you love, I ask you not to be ungenerous with him.’

Edward frowned. ‘Are you asking me to be nice to that outrageous scoundrel?!’

‘Yes, yes I am. I can’t tell you why, but I beg you to be civil to him at least. It’s just for now. Please, for me?’

‘Only if he’s civil to me and my sister!’

Alfred disarmed Edward with a few pleading flutters of his long eyelashes.

‘Fine. Whatever you wish,’ Edward promised, still troubled.

‘Is that it? Only, you seem so tense.’

‘We must go downstairs,’ Edward said elusively but Alfred stopped him.

‘Not until you tell me what ails you.’

‘God, Alfred, I just…’

‘What? What is it? God, you’re breaking my heart with that look on your face, Edward,’ Alfred cooed gently but he was quite alarmed. He tried to soothe his love with gentle touches but Edward was like a brick wall. ‘Is it that you still have doubts that it’s wrong or immoral, or…’

Edward shook his head.

‘Are you angry at your sister’s rebelliousness?’

Another shake of the head.

‘Are you scared of the spy?’

No.

‘Are you scandalised by William’s habits?’

No.

‘The way he talks?’

No.

‘Are you vexed that you have to follow his commands?’

No.

‘Is it that he decided to take his broken heart out on your butler, of all people in London?’

Another shake of the head (and perhaps a scoff).

‘Are you… jealous?’

Perhaps Edward was but no, that was not the point now.

‘Alright, are you annoyed that that curl keeps falling into your eyes and there’s no time to fix it?’

‘What? No!’ Edward snapped tearily, brushing said curl away and thus making it worse.

‘Because _I_ think it’s charming,’ Alfred reassured him.

‘It’s not that, Alfred! It’s…’

Edward slumped on his bed dramatically and took a deep breath.

‘Don’t you realise, Alfred? If this goes wrong in any way, if a neighbour gets wind of this, if none has yet, if there’s any harm caused to that man or anyone else under my roof, my parents will know about it and so will Sir Robert, and the papers, and then I will definitely have no choice but to marry Florence as a cover. I _don’t_ _want_ to do that! You, of all people should understand why. I _can’t_. Don’t make me. I just don’t have it in me to—I’d rather die than—’

Alfred knelt by his feet at the sound of a sob.

‘Edward, listen to me, my darling,’ he said, taking his hands. ‘That will not happen. I promise.’

‘Won’t it? Frankly, nothing surprises me anymore. Am I not shooting myself in the foot here?’

‘First things first,’ Alfred said seriously. ‘Think of it practically. If we call for the police, they won’t do anything. The P. I. is just doing the job for which he was hired. It is ill-mannered from you parents but not technically a crime. The alternative is to let him report whatever he’s seen or heard to your parents.’

Edward groaned miserably.

‘And so what if he does?’ Alfred asked.

‘What!?’

‘What are you actually afraid of?’

‘That they’ll know!’

‘And? Your parents can cut you off. Mine will not.’

‘Your parents…’

‘We are Pagets, we don’t judge. Sir Robert can go hang; he has known about William since he went off with the navy at 13. He’s not going to do anything worse than what he has already done. He has already laid down the worst law and organised hundreds of men to be his watchful eyes. I mean how much more harm can he do!?’

‘Is that supposed to comfort me? Because…’

‘And the papers are welcome to publish every minute detail of what these walls have witnessed,’ Alfred insisted defiantly. ‘If they do, we’ll travel.’

‘But the Palace…’

‘I would rather flee abroad with you than stay just for the sake of the Palace. What’s the use of my uniforms if I only wear them for pomp? Besides, I won’t want to stay for the scandal, purely because of my parents. Not because they’d be surprised, but because they’ve earned their peace in their old age. They did all that when they divorced their previous spouses and married each other. But if it came to that, rest easy, my love. I have friends in France. We would never starve or beg. I would miss Papa—he swore never to touch French soil again, not after he left his leg there. I could get used to it. You, me, oysters and champagne…’

Edward listened to reason best, so this was working. Alfred dried his tears and continued:

‘And about Lothian. I told you, I know exactly how to get rid of him. He is guilty of something unmentionable.’

‘More unmentionable than—’

‘By any sound moral standard, yes. But I need you to set that aside and focus on one problem at a time. We take this wretched spy down before he takes us down. We do that, you breakfast with your parents as planned, pretend nothing is amiss, have a nap…’

‘Hear, hear!’

‘…and Lothian’s next, I promise. How does that sound?’

They nearly forgot about the spy, Edward kissed Alfred so passionately.

William found Wood in the kitchen. Instead of a greeting like a normal person, he snuck up behind him and blew air on the back of his ear. The butler jumped and dropped a humongous filet knife on the stone tiles with a loud clank.

‘Sorry,’ William said, not sounding sorry at all. ‘Leave that there, that won’t do. Is there anything less bendy? Something _hard_ , and _firm_?’

Wood shot the captain what would have been a look of annoyance if he hadn’t been blushing. He handed him a large carving knife.

‘Not bad… feels good in one’s grip, doesn’t it?’ William winked.

‘Are you doing this for him?’ Wood asked, feeling like he had nothing to lose at this point.

‘Hm?’

‘For Lord Alfred. I understand you and him were—'

‘There is no more me and Lord Alfred,’ William stated bitterly.

Wood pushed away some of the many silver items still left on the table to have something to lean against and think about his regrettable life choices, even as he was picking at a loose thread of the ropes around his shoulders.

‘I thought you liked me, that’s all,’ he explained without a prompt.

William had heard this same exact line a fair few times in a number of different languages, and normally, his reaction was to walk away and let them deal with it on their own, while he sought out his next adventure. This time, however, something compelled him to step to the man, not like to a butler or a meaningless bed partner.

Slowly, inch by inch, he found a way to Wood’s lips and kissed him.

‘What was that for?’ Wood asked afterwards.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ Will teased. ‘I should apologise for all the trouble I’ve caused you.’

‘His lordship said it is not uncommon in your wake, captain.’

Will chuckled. ‘Well, if it’s any comfort, should Drummond give you grief, my ship is not full. If you want to make something of yourself, your cabin awaits. You’ll certainly be the most handsome hand on deck. And now you know all sorts of knots!’

‘I’ll remember that.’

‘Do. You don’t speak Arabic, by any chance, do you?’

A laugh left Wood’s lips, too, despite himself, at this ridiculous but gorgeous and certainly adventurous man, but their smiles were wiped right off as they heard it.

The strange old man’s voice came from the entrance hall overhead. It sounded loud and clear and mad.

‘ _SIR ROBERT PEEL? PREPARE TO MEET YOUR MAKER!_ ’


	10. A Hole in the Ship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte is taken back to the day she met Cecilia, but a gunshot brings her back to a painful reality.

_Was that?_

_Who was—_

_Can’t have._

One moment, Charlotte Drummond was waiting in the library, as discussed, tutting at her brother and the captain and everyone for not taking this seriously enough to be quick, the next…

At least the vase had been cleaned up, she thought just before it happened. Her gaze scanned the room and, through the archway, the drawing room that swam in the blue light of morning as if it were underwater. This house was a ship, a submarine. Was it sinking?

Light. Warm. Let it be a lighthouse, then. Like that radiant afternoon, one of those where one felt sorry for schoolchildren for having to be indoors when the sun shone so brightly outside.

She felt like she was one of them, those restless schoolgirls, as the poetry club gathered there that day. She hated hosting but there they were as it was her turn to invite all those bonnets and frills and their mothers who only came to make sure the poems were suitable for their daughters’ consumption.

Charlotte made a stir when she revealed the poet would be present to recite his own work. His. Fans were broken out and whispers swept across the room— _could it be him? I didn’t know he wrote poetry! He’s not only rich, and established, but a romantic!_ —but it soon died down as Mr Beattie stepped into the room, adjusted his sweat soaked collar, and began. The excitement dwindled, though the fans kept fluttering fast in the heat of the afternoon sun that warmed the drawing room despite the measly cross draft.

And the measly poetry.

‘ _But with the dawn_ ,’ Mr Beattie recited, clearly in love with his own genius, ‘ _dark signs in sea and ocean announce impending dangers to our crew_.’

That’s when she heard it.

Charlotte, like others, turned to the source of the little laugh that escaped someone’s lips helplessly.

After a glance of cold disapproval at the red-haired young lady, they turned back to enjoy – or endure – Mr Beattie’s performance. All, except for Charlotte, who forgot herself, forgot the poet, the party, the world, because the snorting lady, who now duly pretended for her mama to feel guilty, was exquisitely beautiful.

Either she stared for too long or the lady sensed she was being stared at, the fact was, their eyes met, they bit back their grins feebly, and sat still until tea and sandwiches.

‘Aren’t there any cakes in this house?’ the lady asked, catching Charlotte alone by the horrid vase she got from her mother, who was luckily far away in Scotland.

The snorting lady was even more beautiful up close. Her freckles just added to her beauty and Charlotte noticed they continued beyond the hem of her dropped neckline, she wondered how much further. Lucky freckles. Charlotte shook her head and remembered she owed her a reply.

‘I’d wager Mrs Levinson probably gobbled them up already. But there must be some saved in the kitchen if you want to sneak downstairs.’

‘I might do,’ the lady replied, and Charlotte had a sense she wasn’t entirely joking.

‘I’m sorry, I have not learned everyone’s names yet, um…’

‘Oh, this is my first time here, don’t you feel embarrassed. I would remember you if I had ever met you, surely. Lady Cecilia Wyndham.’

Charlotte shook her ungloved hand. Her touch felt oddly familiar, even for that brief second.

‘Pleasure. Me, I’m—’

‘Miss Drummond, I know. It is your house, after all.’

‘My brother’s, to be accurate.’

‘But we cannot see him anywhere around here, much to the chagrin of all the girls who suddenly had the fancy for poetry. Is the club normally this popular?’

Charlotte died a little inside. ‘Not normally, no.’

‘Must be you, then.’

Charlotte heard herself laugh. ‘My brother, rather. I feel like a parrot. Everyone keeps asking about him and I keep disappointing them.’

‘Who, the aspiring Mrs Drummonds or their mothers?’

‘One more than the other.’

‘I’m sure the mothers wouldn’t mind a bite out of your brother themselves if their daughters wouldn’t—oh I’m sorry, are they your friends?’

Charlotte swallowed the mouthful of tea she almost spat out.

‘Oh, Goodness, no.’

‘Oh, good.’

Lady Cecilia’s eyes glinted with mischief and Charlotte realised she found her utterly charming in personality, not just looks.

‘It’s not their fault,’ she allowed. ‘I know, it just… irritates me. I know my brother and he deserves someone good. Our older brothers are happy enough in the traditional sense but Edward, he should have someone who isn’t just a good wife but someone who matches him as a partner, in intellect and humour and interests. Not some newly debuted girl who pretends to be interested in poetry just to make his acquaintance. God, here comes another—’ she muttered but her smile was wide at the approaching girl and her bejewelled mama.

‘What a lovely afternoon, Miss Drummond!’ the girl said as if she had rehearsed her lines.

‘Thank you for coming.’

‘A most interesting choice of poet as well. Is it usually like this?’

‘Ah, you are a new member, too?’ Charlotte asked and shared a secret glance with Lady Cecilia.

‘I am! My friend Eliza mentioned this month’s meeting would be held here and I simply could not miss it!’

‘Why, I had no idea this house was so famed.’

‘We were rather hoping to say hello to your brother—’

‘Alas, he is at the House all day today,’ Charlotte cut in on autopilot, her smile tightening but then she could hardly keep it down when she caught Cecilia’s cheeks blow up from stifled giggles.

‘Pity,’ the girl’s mother replied mincingly.

‘Yes, well, he is as busy as a bee, poor Edward. Lots of politics to do, you know how it is.’

‘Oh, yes, my husband is an MP and he is never home! Never!’ the mother quipped, almost too happily. ‘Well, do tell Mr Drummond that Lady Emma Fitzgerald and her mother said hello.’

‘I will, I promise,’ Charlotte reassured them but snorted to herself as soon as they wandered off to chat to others.

‘What?’ Cecilia asked her.

‘I shouldn’t say.’

‘Come, take pity on me, Miss Drummond, this has been the dullest afternoon of my life! No offence.’

Charlotte took none. She leaned closer confidentially.

‘Between you and me, I sent a note to the Commons earlier to warn Edward he must not return home before I give him the clear. Not if he values his limbs, that is!’

Lady Cecilia, who had just taken a sip of tea, was silent. Her eyes went wide over the gilded rim of the cup. Charlotte was scared she had misread her completely! Oh, no, what a fool she must think her!

The tea came out through Cecilia’s nose. Amidst profuse apologies, she accepted Charlotte’s handkerchief to have something in which to stifle her giggles and tears of joy.

‘I am sorry about this abysmal afternoon,’ Charlotte apologised in turn when her own giggles subsided enough to let her speak. ‘Never again! But I profoundly wish I could make it up to _you_.’

‘Oh, you could,’ Cecilia said, again, that glint of mischief lighting up her eyes. ‘Do you write?’

‘Poems?! Can’t say I do.’

‘Then why host the club?’

Charlotte shrugged.

‘Not lonely, are you? A fine woman like yourself,’ Cecilia remarked, making her new friend as flustered as never before.

‘I have not been in London for long. Is it obvious?’

‘Well, all the same! You cannot be this desperate for friends, my dear,’ Cecilia said, indicating the room full of meringue-looking women and the half-wit poet who tended to smell the teacakes before eating them.

‘I am not looking for an army of friends, exactly.’

‘Everyone needs a companion.’

‘Is that why you came? You’re new. Were you hoping to meet my brother as well?’

‘I am more interested in you, Miss Drummond,’ Cecilia admitted freely.

Charlotte ducked her head. This could not be real. Dreams like this simply did not come true. No matter how the lady was looking at her, she ought to get a grip and stop imagining things that were probably not there.

‘Can’t I get a poem, then?’ Cecilia asked in a different, softer voice that would haunt Charlotte’s dreams that night.

‘I am no writer, honestly, Lady Cecilia. My unfortunate choice of poet goes to show that perfectly well.’

‘Well, now you must be. I have always wanted to be someone’s muse.’

‘A likely prospect for someone as lovely as yourself, if I may say so,’ Charlotte blurted out without thinking and immediately felt the urge to bolt out the door. And this was her house!

But Cecilia was brought to a smile. She was clearly terribly flattered. Somehow, she found the courage to meet Miss Drummond’s eyes.

‘Do not break my heart, Miss Drummond—’

‘Charlotte. Please. And I would sooner jump off a cliff than do that, but I really am more of a visual student.’

‘An artist, are you? Why, perhaps I should sit for you one day. Perhaps with my hair down?’

‘With your… hair…’

‘Why not? My mother won’t let a Winterhalter taken of me. You could remedy that.’

About a thousand inappropriate scenarios suddenly flashed across Charlotte’s mind’s eye. That distant sound? Probably the gates of Heaven shutting her out while construction work on her own pit in Hell kicked off, which would feel like an icebox after the hotness in her body under Cecilia’s gaze.

‘I shall make sure to have cakes for that occasion,’ she chatted outwardly.

‘Good. I like sweet things.’

Yes, alright, that’s Charlotte’s rent for that pit because she knew she would sell her soul for just one of Lady Cecilia’s kisses.

Her mother found her. They fled apart—when did they stand so close to each other?

‘Cecilia,’ the countess hissed, and her daughter stood up straighter, though she was smiling as if to be irritating. Charlotte was learning. ‘Your complexion is most appalling.’

‘Hot tea,’ Cecilia quipped to be clever, without a beat. ‘The steam. It went right to my head, oh!’ she said and fanned herself.

‘Then will you put that cup down and compose yourself? The Earl of Grantham is here.’

‘He wasn’t invited,’ Charlotte pointed out instinctively.

‘He was just in Mayfair to have his new riding clothes fitted,’ the countess explained the lie transparently. ‘Come, Cecilia, he wishes to talk to you.’

‘I don’t much appreciate being talked to rather than with,’ Cecilia scoffed.

‘Stop that clever nonsense and come. He is waiting.’

‘Well, then tell _him_ to come to me. It is him who wants me, not I who wants him.’

The countess took the cup and saucer right out of her daughter’s hands and the grip on her arm seemed painful, though Cecilia did not wince. She was not laughing anymore, though.

‘Come.’

Charlotte watched her go obediently to the other side of the room, where a young man with idiotic sideburns was waiting to be given her time.

This was not right, she thought. And then it occurred to her that it really wasn’t right.

She interrupted him mid-speech when she went to join them.

‘Hello,’ Charlotte said with a mincing smile. ‘The Earl of Grantham, is it not?’

‘I am, Lady…’

‘Miss Drummond. The hostess.’

‘Ah.’

‘To what do I owe your acquaintance, Lord Grantham?’

‘I only dropped by to see Lady Cecilia.’

‘That cannot be!’ Charlotte said, feigning shock. ‘A strapping man like yourself would never be so discourteous and forward.’

‘Pardon?’

The countess’ face matched the tone of the earl’s voice. Meanwhile, Cecilia was beginning to smile again.

‘It is only right to introduce oneself to the chatelaine of the house before talking to any one of my guests under my roof.’

‘Well, I just…’

‘So if you’d like to court Lady Cecilia in my drawing room, I would be delighted to receive your letter asking for my invitation first. Otherwise, I’m afraid it is good day to you, sir.’

‘Um… how… how true!’ the earl stammered. ‘Apologies. Sincerely. I should be, uh… going then…’

The countess was fuming.

‘We shall accompany you,’ she announced sternly. ‘It is a splendid day, just the ticket for a walk in the park. Go on, Cecilia.’

‘Oh, I wouldn’t dare to chaperone you two, Mama,’ Cecilia said without hesitation. ‘Do go. I was promised cake here.’

The earl got so embarrassed at that he backed out of the house in a flurry of apologies and excuses as to why he didn’t have time for a walk after all.

The countess was not pleased and announced she would wait in the carriage.

‘That was fantastic,’ Charlotte giggled with Cecilia after that.

‘You were,’ Cecilia told her in turn, and allowed herself a touch of Charlotte’s arm. ‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure.’

‘I’m afraid I should follow my Mama so she can properly scold me. Do save some cakes for me. I mean to take you up on that offer.’

And then she leaned in to place the sweetest kiss on Charlotte’s face, not cheek-to-cheek but with a feather-light touch of the lips, and she could smell the scent of cherries on Cecilia’s hair.

As if the world knew just how smitten Charlotte was, as soon as Cecilia left, the sun’s keen rays seemed to vanish and the house seemed duller than ever. It was as if Cecilia had taken the light with her.

Charlotte was brought back to earth, to the same drawing room in the cold light of morning, with a gun in her hand and fear in her heart.

That was a gunshot.

Distinctly, she heard it, and the unmistakable sounds of someone collapsing on the ground.

Her legs carried her to the entrance hall, where she found a scene that was inexplicable.

The front door was wide open. On the marble floor, an old man in shabby clothes was struggling under the weight of Sir William, who held his hands tightly behind the man’s back. His binoculars lay some way on the floor.

‘Get the ropes! The ropes!’ William instructed Wood, who made quick work of tying up the man’s hands and feet. ‘You! Point that gun at him, for God’s sakes!’

As soon as Charlotte did so, the man stopped struggling so.

‘What is this, who are you?’ she demanded.

‘I am justice!’ the man growled nastily.

‘Well, you are no soap salesman, I daresay!’ William remarked. ‘And I once went two weeks without a bath! Now, what were you doing in my friend’s house, crying Robert Peel’s name?!’

‘That bastard!’

‘I’m sure he is but what is he to you?’

‘Must… kill… him…’

‘Good grief, if that’s your intention, be my guest but get the house right, you fool!’

‘…thinks he can… get away with his… damned Corn Laws!’

‘What the devil are the ruddy Corn Laws!?’

At that, they turned to the staircase, where Charlotte only just noticed Edward standing and leaning on Alfred. They could only see his back as he stumbled and found support on the wood-panelled walls closest to him. Alfred’s face over his shoulder seemed as pale as that of a ghost.

‘Help,’ Alfred uttered in a hollow voice, looking at Edward with wide, fearful eyes. ‘ _Help him!_ ’

Charlotte saw the captain’s frown clear up and become something completely different and chilling as he beheld Drummond. No witticism or clever quip was on his lips.

‘No!’ he told Charlotte firmly when she went to move to help her brother. ‘You keep pointing that at this scum of man. Walt, take over.’

The butler put his weight on the intruder, holding the reins and Charlotte watched rooted to the spot as the captain jumped on his feet and saw to Edward.

‘William,’ Alfred said fearfully he came up to them, his stunned eyes swimming in tears.

‘Let me see, Drummond,’ William asked, surprisingly gently.

A curse left Drummond’s lips (and that indicated just how grave his state was, if anything did), as Alfred got him to straighten up and reveal where his nightgown was steeped in blood over his chest.

‘William, is he—he just _jumped_ —without thinking—’

The captain ignored him and focused on Drummond only. His jaw was clenched but he was still standing, so that was a good sign. And when the captain reached up to unbutton his nightshirt, he was quick to slap his hand away, civility be damned.

‘I just want to see,’ he reassured Edward.

‘Let him,’ Alfred pleaded, supporting Edward. ‘There’s so much blood…’

Edward let the captain unbutton him just enough to pull aside the fabric and assess the damage.

‘God, you’re a lucky bastard,’ the captain concluded in awe.

He earned a nasty look from the injured.

‘Alright, perhaps not as lucky as one who has not been shot.’

‘What’s happened??’ Charlotte demanded from below, still holding the aspiring assassin at gunpoint. ‘Is he hurt? Is it bad?!’

‘It is a flesh wound but it went right through,’ William said. ‘Apologies Drummond, but this may hurt a little.’

‘What—’

Edward screamed in pain as William moved his arm no more than an inch.

‘Just as I feared,’ William sighed. ‘It hit a bone.’

‘Wood, call for the doctor!’ Alfred ordered at once.

‘Wait!’ Will stepped in. ‘Take that fool somewhere where he can’t get out of.’

‘The wine cellar?’ Wood asked.

‘If it has a lock and key,’ Will nodded. ‘Miss Drummond, do go with them. Then, yes, please get a medic.’

‘What should I say?’ she asked.

‘To bring a barrel of laudanum if he has any pity for Mr Drummond.’

Alfred looked more scared than Edward but Will just acted fast as he had too many times to count. He stuffed his necktie in Alfred’s hands and placed it over the wound.

‘Press it, gently,’ he instructed but Alfred wouldn’t when Edward screamed in pain again. ‘Do it, gently, but do it.’

‘It’s hurting him!’

‘Rather a bit of pain than letting him bleed out on these stairs! The man is holey on both ends! Now, come, for heaven’s sake!’ he demanded and, supporting Drummond’s weight from the other side, they went all the way to his bedroom.


	11. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As wonderfully as it began, Edward's night turns rough as he pays the price of protecting Alfred. Can Alfred save their necks in turn when the doctor and the police show up to check on the unusual Drummond residence and its scandalous ongoings? And, some might embark upon an unexpected journey.

Edward was sat on his bed with difficulty. Every little movement sent unbearable pains through the bones in his shoulder, which were smashed through by the bullet in a most awkward fashion. He bit back his winces and swears as best as he could—mostly because he didn’t want to seem like a weakling in the presence of the oh so confident Captain Peel—but he had broken out in a sweat on top of leaking from front and back and already feeling quite dizzy for it.

He was just welcoming a breath of relief as he found a position in which the pains were less torturous when the captain took out a kitchen knife and pointed it at Edward’s wound.

‘What the blasted devil are you—!?’

‘Language, Drummond!’ William scoffed in mockery even while concentrating on his task. ‘We must free the wound of your clothes. The doctor will want to access them easily.’

‘But…’

‘Let him do what he says he needs to do,’ Alfred pleaded. ‘He knows what he’s doing. You… you do know, don’t you, William?’

‘Please, darling,’ Will scoffed. ‘Let’s just say I have witnessed much worse than the ordeal through which Henry went at Waterloo.’

‘Henry?’ Edward asked indignantly. ‘The _Marquess_ , you mean?’

‘Don’t be jealous! We can be on a first name basis, too, if you wish,’ Will teased the invalid. ‘Let me just see what’s under your robe first, alright, Drummond? Alfred, be a dear and help me lay him down on the bed. You are the expert at that more than I!’

Alfred was too choked up at Edward’s state to scold William and just did as told.

‘He’s still bleeding so,’ he said, looking over to the captain for advice. ‘What do we do?’

‘Clean towels and hot water would be superb. And alcohol,’ William said, cutting through the fabric of Edward’s garments carefully.

‘For the wound?’

‘For the wound, for drinking, for celebration if we’re lucky.’

‘I’ll bring everything,’ Alfred said, running off to the bathroom without hesitation.

‘And you certainly seem to be a lucky chap, Drummond,’ William remarked under his breath, holding the wound down just a little more firmly than Alfred had.

A moan of pain escaped Drummond’s lips.

‘Mmh, careful, Drummond. A few more sounds like that and I might begin to see what Alfred sees in you, aside from the gorgeous pectoral muscles and these biceps! Heavenly.’

‘Oh, you damn…’ Edward fumed, decorum preserving his manners in the last second. ‘You must be enjoying this.’

‘Yes, Drummond, this is certainly why I crossed two oceans: so that I can have the pleasure of taking care of Alfred’s new man’s circulatory system. That’s exactly the kind of entertainment I look for, you know me so well! By the way, are you partial to your butler? He was an exceptional lay and I wouldn’t mind snatching him away from you, if you know what I mean.’

‘OH, YOU—’

‘Here are the towels,’ Alfred announced upon his return. ‘And here’s a jug of water. It’s as hot as it can be from the tap but I can go to the kitchen and boil some. Or ask Wood.’

‘This is perfect, thank you,’ William said, flashing him a handsome smile.

Alfred sensed something awkward in the air but then how could it not be awkward to have his ex-lover nurse his current one?

‘I shall be back with liquor in a minute,’ he said. ‘Be nice,’ he added from the doorway.

‘I’ll try but I can’t promise anything. He’s an awfully fidgety patient.’

‘I was talking to Edward.’

Edward shot him a begrudging look as a promise.

‘What did he mean by being nice to me?’ Will asked.

Edward had nothing polite to tell him, so he remained resolutely silent. Until a pained grunt escaped his lips.

‘Oops!’ William said nonchalantly and got to cleaning the blood off the area of the injury. ‘Must have forgotten my strength there.’

‘I do despise you,’ Edward declared even as he let William gently wipe his skin clean.

‘Despise you right back, Drummond.’

‘Then we agree on one thing at least.’

‘Suppose we do,’ Will said, smirking to himself. ‘Though, I suppose you’ll also agree that Alfred is a marvellous kisser. Amongst other things.’

‘Don’t you dare—’

‘Or what? You’ll wince at me? Oh, no! How will I survive! Just stay still and try to stay calm.’

‘Stay calm!?’

‘Then just stay still. The more agitated you are, the more you bleed, and I cannot have you stain this waistcoat, it’s real Chinese silk, so just stay put, man. Besides, if you died, Alfred would never forgive me.’

‘Right,’ Edward laughed humourlessly. ‘Swoop in. Be the hero. Call his father by his Christian name like you are family.’

‘Ohh, someone’s insecure, methinks. Alas, Alfred was perfectly clear about his feelings about me the other day, if you must know, or the lack thereof.’

‘I know,’ Edward told him, not at all insecurely.

‘There you go. He’s all yours. I’m just the friend who patches you up.’

‘How lucky for me.’

William paused for a second at that. He would have retorted with a clever quip, but he didn’t feel like it anymore. He stuffed a clean towel under Edward’s shoulder and pressed another one on the clean front wound to keep it from oozing more blood.

‘You are lucky,’ he said to Edward. ‘You have Alfred’s love. You have my father’s respect and support. And you’re lucky you’ve escaped this shot with an injury that seems but a childhood scratch next to the pain that the finest men I have served with suffered on the battlefields. So, yes, Drummond, I do believe you can call yourself somewhat lucky.’

Alfred returned just then. Not that Edward had come up with any reply.

‘Will this do?’ he asked, presenting a large bottle of whiskey.

Will smelled the liquor and took a swig.

‘Ah, such a waste of good Scotch!’ he declared.

‘What do you—ARGHHH!’ Edward saw stars as the alcohol hit his open wound and stung like fire.

‘Enough!’ Alfred ordered.

William stopped, filled his flask with the whiskey, and placed the bottle on the nightstand.

‘It’ll cease in a second,’ he shrugged. ‘Rather the sting of a clean wound than a lost arm.’

‘How long until the blasted doctor arrives?’ Edward demanded through gritted teeth.

‘Your sister has already gone to get him,’ Alfred reassured him and placed a cooling hand on his glistening forehead. ‘Wood’s downstairs guarding that vile man in the cellar. Apparently, he is not willing to say much, only that he has come from Glasgow to assassinate… well…’

‘Papa,’ William said easily. ‘Because of some Potato Laws?’

‘Corn,’ Edward corrected him in spite of himself. ‘Sir Robert has revoked tariffs on Irish imports to alleviate the famine. It’s split the party in two, but people are dying, which is far more important than one’s status or legacy.’

William looked at him like he’d just heard his father decided to join the circus.

‘Never mind why that mad scoundrel did this!’ Alfred said, scooting over to his beloved Edward. ‘Why did you do it?’

‘Did what?’

‘You know what!’ Alfred nearly sobbed. ‘You just jumped in front of the bullet to protect me. You silly, silly man!’

‘Rather me than you, a thousand times, a million!’

Alfred kissed Edward on the lips, which made him dizzier than the blood loss.

‘This doesn’t mean I am not thoroughly cross with you.’

‘Worth it.’

‘Pft. God, if you’re going to be like that, I’ll…’ William scoffed and wandered away to a far corner of the room to light up a cheroot, away from the lovebirds.

Alfred watched him go and sensed it was time to ask. Or say without asking. Or something. Before it was too late.

‘Go,’ Edward said, reading his mind.

‘Will you be alright?’ Alfred asked as Edward took over holding the towel to his wound.

‘I’ll manage for a minute.’

Alfred nodded and walked up to William tentatively, who fidgeted and avoided his eyes.

‘Suppose I should leave before the doctor shows up,’ Will muttered.

‘Please don’t,’ Alfred said kindly. ‘I’m sure there’ll be explanations needed.’

‘Precisely. I can’t excuse my being here at this hour, not with a proper reason.’

‘We’ll think of something. Leave it to me.’

‘Pft. What can you say? Everyone in London knows I’m a—’

‘You are my friend. I have never denied that in public. I did not deny it even the other day at the club. Because you are. Why shouldn’t you be here? At your father’s right-hand man’s house? What could be more proper?’

‘I’m sure if it gets out, Papa will see right through it.’

‘Then we shall vouch for you.’

‘I’m not worried for myself but for you.’

‘I’ll be fine. I will take it. Because we are so grateful you were here, William. Who knows how this night could have gone if we’d just waited in our beds for this mad person to enter and pull his trigger on Edward?! So thank you. Thank you so much! Is that right, Edward?’ Alfred turned to his love.

Edward swallowed his pride with difficulty and mumbled something akin to “Yes, thank you” with perhaps an “I suppose” added in there before he turned the other way to preserve a bit of his dignity and grudge.

Alfred had to smile. He turned back to William.

‘And just remember, though I know I have disappointed you in _that_ way, I never want to lose you as a friend. I mean it. Please, promise me you know that and that you won’t do anything to the contrary.’

William frowned and cracked up as Alfred pleaded to him and even took his hand for emphasis.

‘Why are you being so weird, Alfred?’

‘You are important to me. To us. I would never want you to get hurt or… or hurt yourself…’

‘Well, I am bound to get a bit bloodied up every now and then in battle, darling, but…’

‘Please, William.’

‘What?!’ Will exclaimed, pulling his hand away. ‘If you’ve something to say, just say it.’

Alfred fidgeted uncomfortably on his feet.

‘Well, your… Edward’s… the butler indicated that you seemed… in the pub and… before…’

‘Ye-es?!’

‘Please tell me you bought those ropes for your ship and not for something else. Else I’ll worry the second you’re out of my sight. Please.’

William stared at him indignantly.

‘What are you saying, Alfred? What did Walt suggest?’

‘Something unspeakable. The worst.’

‘Wait a minute. You think I was going to hang myself!?’

William swore like a sailor, bringing a blush to his polite company.

‘So… you were not?’ Alfred asked.

‘No, I was not!’ William denied offendedly. ‘Please, darling, you are awfully lovely, and I will hate Drummond’s guts for a long time to come, perhaps forever, but I wasn’t going to off myself just because I can’t have you back! What! I have not survived all those years in the East to end it myself now! Oh, dear Lord, did you tell Drummond to be nice to me because you thought I would? By God, Jesus Christ, Alfred—’

‘Alright, alright, I get it,’ Alfred said, letting out a sigh of relief. ‘I am pleased, in that case.’

‘I mean honestly! The bloody ropes are just for the portside quarterdeck! Found a good purpose or two for them tonight on land, though, I have to say,’ Will added with a wink. ‘But you’d know all about that if you remember Paris…’

Edward tutted. Alfred returned to him to hold the towel before William elaborated on that vacation.

Blissfully shortly afterwards, they heard the front door and Charlotte and the new, booming voice of a man.

‘Would you button yourself up at last, William?’ Alfred urged and the captain did as told just in time for the doctor’s entrance. The portly man had dressed for his call so hastily he forgot to take off his polka-dotted nightcap.

‘Ah! My favourite patient! Well, well, well, what do we have here? I hear you’ve got yourself in a bad way, most unusually for you, Mr Drummond!’

‘Doctor Blake! Never been more pleased to see you,’ Edward exclaimed. ‘Thank you, Charlotte, thank you! It all happened about twenty minutes ago, when—’

‘Yes, yes, Miss Drummond told me all about this strange fiasco,’ Doctor Blake said, settling by the bed with his leather bag to look at the invalid. ‘My wife was not pleased when I was roused by a pretty lady at this hour, I must say. I shall have to do some serious explaining when I get home,’ he joked and Charlotte only refrained from kicking him out because he was the person alleviating Edward’s pain. ‘But let me take care of one problem at the time. We’ll get you as good as new and handsome for the papers.’

‘The papers!?’

‘You have been most heroic, Mr Drummond. I am sure the Times will see it that way before long. My job is to get you shipshape before the admirers start turning up. Now, this might sting a little, I do apologise…’

Alfred watched with horror as the doctor applied some sort of witch’s brew on the wounds and started examining the awkward bones in Edward’s shoulder that were clearly killing him with pain.

‘Give him something, for God’s sake,’ William even suggested.

‘I do not need anything, thank you,’ Edward grumbled stubbornly.

‘Are you sure, Mr Drummond?’ the doctor asked. ‘Your shoulder is dislocated, and the bullet grazed your collarbone. Perhaps a little laudanum…’

‘I’ll have some if he won’t!’ William muttered to a humourless Charlotte as Edward endured the procedure valiantly.

‘Drummond,’ Alfred called firmly, in his public voice, and stuffed the bottle of whisky in his hand. ‘Drink.’

‘It’s… not… necessar—ARGH!’ Edward screamed as the doctor yanked his shoulder back in place without warning. ‘ALRIGHT, maybe just a drop!’

Will helped Edward chug a third of the bottle while being bandaged in gauze. Charlotte pulled Alfred out to the hallway.

‘The police are downstairs,’ she told him quietly.

Alfred tried not to seem too alarmed. ‘Of course, they would be.’

‘Doctor Blake insisted and there was nothing I could say, nothing compelling. They were patrolling the street anyway.’

‘Not the mews?’

‘Not the mews.’

‘Good.’

‘Yes. And I was thinking it’s probably for the better, actually.’

‘Miss Drummond…’

‘I know but hear me out. They are interrogating that man in the cellar as we speak. Wood is there but it would be better if…’

‘You can go, of course you can.’

‘I was thinking you should. I didn’t see anything helpful and the inspector would be more inclined to listen to you, being Her Majesty’s best friend and all.’

‘I wouldn’t say I’m…’

‘I can trust you to smoothen this out, can’t I? You can come up with something.’

‘I suppose, but Edward…’ Alfred objected and even then they could hear Edward’s sounds of struggle.

‘He’s my brother, Lord Alfred,’ she reminded him a little more firmly. ‘I know you love him, I don’t mean to be awful, truly, but I can stay here. In fact, it would look better. Go, before they gobble Wood up in whole.’

Though with a heavy heart, Alfred nodded and went downstairs, all the way to the cellar through the kitchen. He fixed his attire, wishing he had something more sensible than his fanciest evening frock on. Luckily, what he heard before stepping in was very much to his advantage indeed:

‘…And what were you doing in the kitchen before your shift, Mr Wood?’ one of the policemen asked. ‘Not wandering about, trying to sell you master’s silver, eh?’

‘I was polishing them!’ Wood replied indignantly. ‘I wanted to get ahead of myself before Mr Drummond woke!’

‘I see, I see. Employee of the year, are we?’ the policeman chuckled nastily. ‘And it wouldn’t have been you who opened the door to this “intruder” for some trade, eh? Before the staff gets in to soft boil Mr Drummond’s eggs?’

‘Most certainly not!’

‘Who else is in this house then—'

‘Good morning, inspectors!’ Alfred greeted the uniformed men confidently and as pompously as he could. ‘May I introduce myself? I am Lord Alfred Paget, from the Palace. I, too, was here when the incident happened. Perhaps I might be of some help.’

The policemen changed their statures at the appearance of the gentleman. Snobs. Good, thought Alfred.

‘Your lordship,’ one of them said with a little bow. ‘We were just interrogating the butler—’

‘Whyever would you interrogate poor Wood? This house would crumble without him. He’s a treasure. Oughtn’t you interrogate that beastly scoundrel leering at us from the cellar?’

‘Why, of course, my lord, but…’

‘Without Wood shoving that intruder to the ground and subduing him, I believe Sir Robert would have had to look for a new secretary. Without Drummond’s heroic and swift actions, perhaps Her Majesty would have had to replace me, her Chief Equerry and favoured dancing partner, if you don’t mind me flaunting my pride. I have witnessed some assassination attempts whilst guarding Her Majesty, inspectors, but I have never seen such a close shave as tonight. So, let this fine butler take a breath. He has earned it, as our gratitude for life.’

Wood muttered a thank you, catching onto Lord Alfred’s plan.

‘Of course. Of course, your lordship,’ the inspector said, caving in. ‘Might we just hear Mr Drummond’s account?’

‘Oh, Drummond’s being patched up by the doctor as we speak. I shan’t think he’ll want to be disturbed in his state just now. Perhaps if you could come back at another time, I am sure he would be perfectly happy to give you a detailed report in writing. He does love his pens and papers, hence why he is Sir Robert Peel’s right-hand man and trusted confidant.’

At the sound of the PM’s name, the assassin lashed out at some crates of wine in the cellar.

‘Steady on, those are fine merlots!’ Alfred quipped snobbishly.

‘Peel,’ growled the old man from the cellar.

‘No, no, I am not Sir Robert Peel. Mr Edward Drummond is not Sir Robert Peel. You got the wrong men.’

‘Peel. The son. In the garden! I saw—'

‘By God!’ Alfred cut in. ‘Has he already fabricated some sort of nonsense to save his neck?’

‘Just that he witnessed a conspiracy,’ one inspector explained, scratching his balding head. ‘And a lady escaping the house through the garden…’

‘A conspiracy? In the garden? A mystery woman? Ha! What an exciting tale, I wish I knew more about it but, alas, why would anyone be out in the garden in the middle of the night when this splendid house has so many comforts to offer? No doubt the villain’s making things up to distract from his own, real crimes.’

‘That… that is surely the case,’ one inspector muttered, feeling stupid. ‘Just one more question, the pistol—’

‘It’s mine,’ Alfred lied smoothly, flashing the police a winning smile as he took it from Wood and pocketed it.

‘I must ask, your lordship, why—'

‘Why do I carry a pistol? As I said, I am Her Majesty’s Chief Equerry. Oh, Drummond dined with us at the Palace last night and mentioned that he had the suspicion that he has been followed by a stranger for some time. Given the frequency with which madmen have attempted to assassinate the Queen, I have been carrying my pistol with me always as a precaution. And how lucky I have! It was the only way to subdue him. A lunatic, if I ever saw one, thrashing around and crying murder, pulling his gun on anyone and everyone! It was ghastly! I am so relieved you are here now, inspectors. Miss Drummond was ever so unnerved. Roused by a gunshot? Rushing down the stairs to find her dearest brother, the renowned statesman, bleeding? What an ordeal! Let us put an end to this for now. If you could take this foolish man to the Yard…’

‘Uh… right… but the man said he saw Sir Robert’s son?’

‘Yes,’ Alfred quipped easily while he scrambled for something that made sense. ‘Yes, he did. Captain William Peel is indeed here, too. He helped Wood subdue the shooter. In the foyer, not the garden.’

‘But he said, in the garden—’

‘He must be mad or just an idiot! If you want, you can question Sir William.’

The inspectors shared an uneasy look. Alfred’s heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t seen William for a full day between rejecting him and catching him sneaking out of the house after he was with the butler. Who knows what other trouble he had got himself into in the missing hours?

‘Is there a problem, inspectors?’

‘Um… no.’

‘Shall I fetch Sir William?’

‘No! No. Not necessary,’ said one inspector but the other burst out reluctantly:

‘May we inquire, your lordship, why Captain Peel was here at this hour?’

‘Why, he is a friend of ours. Just returned unexpectedly from the East. I simply couldn’t bear the thought of him lugging it in a hotel.’

‘We happen to know he is residing in the royal suite of Claridge’s. It cannot be uncomfortable.’

Alfred swore he would skin William the next chance he got.

‘No, it is just the ticket after a long journey for a respectable gentleman.’

‘Respectable?’ one inspector repeated and earned an elbow in the side by his partner.

‘Why, yes,’ he laughed brightly, raking his mind for an excuse as to why William’s enemy’s house was a better fit than the most comfortable suite in Mayfair. ‘Has he given the impression he’s been naughty again? Oh, such a prankster, he is!’ he feigned laughter.

Wood caught on and forced a few laughs, too.

‘I’m sorry, your lordship, we don’t quite understand.’

‘Sir William enjoys pulling our legs, even letting the strangest gossips do their rounds just to cover how nice and generous he is. You have uncovered a bit of an embarrassing secret here. You see, Drummond, Peel, and myself conspired to plan a surprise for Sir Robert and Lady Peel’s 30th wedding anniversary to be held next week. Hence why we met in this house after hours. It’s more private than the hotel, albeit not quite as luxurious. Besides, it seemed more appropriate to assemble here rather than take Miss Drummond to the hotel with us. Her feminine insights are invaluable. Alas, that intruder must have camped out on the roof, climbed the pipes or something, and saw Sir William enter, thinking he was his father, the PM, to assassinate. Just ghastly, is it not? One means well, but then malintent spoils it.’

‘But why was anyone downstairs at this hour?’

‘I was just polishing the silver,’ Wood stated firmly and confidently.

‘Good man,’ Alfred said, flashing him a smile and to the inspectors. ‘As for us _upstairs_ , we were not _downstairs_. We had long retired to our respective rooms. Then, in the small hours of the morning, we all heard noises that could not have been the cat, so we came to investigate and before we knew it, this man screamed for Sir Robert to meet his maker and fired his gun! The intent was clearly murderous, but the act so insane, I wouldn’t waste time on believing a word of his, whatever nonsense he comes up with to get out of a due punishment. A lady in the night! A garden coup! Very good! What next, a ghost? This man should not be in that cellar. He should be in gaol or an asylum.’

The inspectors shared a look.

‘Right. That’s absolutely right, your lordship,’ they concluded.

‘Well, then, any further questions, my good men?’ Alfred asked with a smile.

There were none. The policemen couldn’t bow enough as Wood saw them out the door, dragging the man in cuffs with them.

Wood slumped against the door as soon as he closed it, cooling his forehead against the white varnish.

‘Apologies, my lord,’ he said and straightened up.

Alfred laughed. ‘And here I thought your talents of dissembling were unmatched.’

‘They put me on the spot. An assassin in the cellar and they accuse me of theft and whatnot!’

‘What did you expect? Brains and the police? You might sooner pair Her Majesty with a travelling circus.’

The butler allowed himself a laugh, too, but then they went upstairs to see how Edward was faring up.

He was faring up well. Very well. More than well. Far more than well.

‘Never wear a toupee, Doctor Blake!’ Drummond blabbered in slurred words. ‘I like your head the way it is. Shiny and bright. Shows you are a smart man.’

Alfred stepped over to a sniggering William and Charlotte in the corner.

‘What’s happened?’ he asked them.

‘Let’s just say, our threshold for Drummond’s stubbornness was far lower than his tolerance for pain,’ Will replied.

‘We slipped him some laudanum when he wouldn’t stop screaming,’ Charlotte explained. ‘Mama and Papa will be here so soon, but it was worth it.’

Alfred looked incredibly cross.

‘I know, but he was in such pain!’ Charlotte defended herself. ‘It was for his own good, trust me.’

‘Do tell your wife it’s my fault you stayed out, Doctor Blake,’ Edward was blabbing on, still happily dazed. ‘Tell her I shall compensate her with something. I’ll send a carriage. Or a house. With a duck pond. I love duck ponds, don’t you?’

‘The usual check would be perfectly enough, Mr Drummond,’ the doctor said with a chuckle and packed up his bag.

‘Ohhh, I will never get married now!’ Edward whined, his emotions all over the place.

‘Married? Aren’t you a little young for that, Mr Drummond?’

‘I am not young, I am ugly now!’

‘Now, now, Drummond,’ Alfred couldn’t help but say. ‘The world contains no medication strong enough to blind one to your remarkable looks.’

Edward liked that and badly disguised his coyness now that Alfred was here and looking like a perfect angel in the bright, golden rays of the morning sun over London.

‘But it’ll leave an awful scar…’

‘It will be a mark of your bravery.’

Edward broke out in a smile. ‘I want to,’ he said.

‘Want to what, Drummond?’

‘I want to marry.’

Alfred’s heart skipped a beat, what with that statement in the air with everyone present. ‘Oh?’

‘Have you anyone special in mind?’ the doctor asked, to distract him from the discomfort of a pupil exam and taking his pulse.

‘Oh, yes. Yes, doctor,’ Edward said, longing to be allowed near Alfred at last, even though he could hardly move at the moment. ‘I have someone very special.’

‘Accomplished?’

‘So accomplished! Speaks French, plays the piano, dances like a dream, terribly elegant and sociable…’

‘And no doubt a pretty sight.’

‘So pretty. SO pretty!! Tall, blue eyes, fair skin, fair hair, name’s—’

‘Alright, that’s enough, Drummond!’ Alfred cut in to put an end to this. ‘We don’t want to wear out the doctor.’

‘Ah, young love is always joyous news,’ the doctor chatted. ‘And the best tonic for any injury, mark my words. I wish you the best of luck with that special someone, Mr Drummond.’

‘It’s not as simple as that,’ Edward lamented theatrically.

‘Oh? Is it another man?’

Edward sighed. ‘Something like that.’

‘Well, the lucky lady might change her mind after she learns of your bravery. Make sure he drinks enough,’ Dr Blake added to the others in a less patronising tone. ‘I’ll be back in the evening to bring more medicine and to change the gauze. If he has a temperature, send for me without haste. I must go and write a report for the police.’

‘And if he keeps talking nonsense about Florence?’ Charlotte asked.

‘I wasn’t talking about Flor—’ Edward objected and Alfred ushered the doctor out unceremoniously, along with Charlotte to see him out.

Once the door was shut, he let out a breath of relief. Edward would be alright, and they managed to save face before he gave them all away in his oblivious, besotted, adorable state.

William flicked his cigar out the window and ran his hands through his dashing, dark locks.

‘I suppose it is time for me to leave, too,’ he declared. ‘Before Drummond gets down on one knee for you.’

‘If you wish,’ Alfred said bashfully.

‘I think Drummond does.’

‘It’s been one long night for us all. He won’t mind if you stay for coffee.’

‘He won’t mind anything much for a few hours, I daresay.’

‘Alfred?’ Edward mumbled confoundedly. ‘Alfred, where are you??? Stop flirting with the Captain!!’

‘I stand corrected,’ William chuckled. He would have been amused if he didn’t hate Drummond so much he could burst. All that talk of Alfred, his accomplishments, like they were fiancés.

‘I was not flirting, my dearest,’ Alfred told Edward cleverly. ‘I was annoying him.’

‘You were not annoying me—’

‘I told the police you were here to plan a surprise for your parents’ anniversary soiree next week.’

‘WHAT!? Why would you do that, Alfred!? WHY!?’

Alfred quirked his eyebrow at a now indeed very annoyed William, who swallowed his words and let it go.

‘Fine. But I won’t actually do it or attend, not for any sort of alibi. I might have set sail by then anyway.’

Wood was listening covertly, Alfred noticed.

‘Where are you going this time?’ he asked for him.

‘That depends on whether I sail alone,’ William replied, catching the butler’s eyes.

Alfred stepped out of the way and gave a subtle but meaningful nod to Wood.

‘Well, I am sure Drummond’s grateful enough for a certain someone’s help,’ he suggested. ‘So much so that he would not object if that someone decided to accompany the captain on his next journey.’

Wood didn’t pretend he didn’t understand. Edward, on the other hand…

‘What’s that? Who’s sailing? Do you want to go rowing, Alfred? God, you are just so beautiful. I love you.’

Alfred smiled at the state of the happy invalid and joined him on the bed to appease him.

‘I was thinking, perhaps if your butler fancied an extended vacation…’

‘A vacation? Who’s going on a vacation? Where? Oh, let’s all go to Copenhagen. I hear it’s lovely there this time of year.’

Alfred soothed his excitable Edward with a brush of his curls out of his eyes. He also glared at the butler emphatically, so Wood stepped to the bed.

‘P-p-perhaps, Mr Drummond,’ he said carefully, ‘W-would it be permissible if I were to ask for leave to accompany the Captain on his next voyage? I am from a fishing town. I rather miss the sea. Only for a few months, of course.’

‘Why… of course… whatever you wish, Wood,’ Edward said, too distracted by Alfred’s beauty.

‘I could not accept, Mr Drummond,’ Wood said politely. ‘But if you insisted…’

‘I said you can go.’

‘Well, if you insist, sir, well, I…’

‘I insist! I insist!’ Edward said with a careless wave and grabbed Alfred by the collar like he would never have in company if it weren’t for the liquid courage. ‘And I insist on a kiss.’

William rolled his eyes and left them to it, though he had Wood to keep him company on his way out. If anything, Drummond and Alfred being so soppy reminded him he was ready for his next adventure, far from wanting to settle down.

Once blissfully alone, Alfred granted Edward’s wish.

‘So… beautiful… so… mmh… marry me, Alfred…

‘You just rest for now…’

‘Mhh serious… marry me… let’s spend our lives together…’

Flustered, Alfred just giggled and he kissed Edward again and again, relieved he would be alright after this awful ordeal. Once his head cleared, he also could not wait to remind Edward of all the things he was saying. He wondered whether he meant it, whether it wasn’t just the substances loosening his tongue. After all, Edward _had_ indicated that he had toyed with the idea of committing to Alfred in that way, before he was made delirious, before they confessed their love, before they... Alfred never thought he would want to consider a traditional union, not believing it possible. Perhaps it wasn’t, perhaps it was madness to imagine it. But if Edward offered, he would not say no.

Someone cleared their throat in the doorway. Charlotte was standing there with arms crossed.

‘Not to be a spoilsport, but Mama and Papa will be here in an hour.’


	12. Truth Will Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We've made it through the night. Unfortunately, the Drummond house is extremely popular this morning. With Edward still under the influence, it is up to Alfred and Charlotte to hold the fort and avert a scandal or two. How will this breakfast determine their futures?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Shakespeare quotes in every chapter have been from Romeo and Juliet, except for the title of this last one, which is from The Merchant of Venice.

Alfred was sitting in the drawing-room, bathed, coiffed, and dressed as impeccably as the room was prepared. Not a speck of dust in sight, no cushion dented. Only that carnation was sticking out of the bouquet on the reading stand…

‘Don’t touch anything!’ Charlotte snapped at him.

She had been less relaxed than Lord Alfred. As soon as the day staff had arrived, she pounced on them to tidy the house, set the breakfast table, and to prepare an assortment of meals just the way Mr and Mrs Drummond liked it, down to a particular softness of the eggs and the colour of toast. It all had to be just perfect.

‘I gather they are normally terribly critical?’ Alfred asked.

Her eyes shot daggers and there was his answer.

Besides, they were bound to go ballistic on their daughter for having sought out an artistic mentor. She could hear them now, “Stop wasting your time, that’s never going to get you a husband! And why did you not take a maid on your outing!? What will people think?” Wait till they heard what happened to Edward.

The staff was used to her temper in the event of parental visits, so they asked no questions and did wonders to the house within just the past hour. Mr and Mrs Drummond were due to arrive any second now, and Charlotte was pacing up and down, wishing she hadn’t tight-laced.

‘Christ, I can’t breathe,’ she complained.

‘Pop upstairs to loosen it.’

‘I can’t.’

‘I’ll stall.’

‘Right.’

‘Excuse me, I am a delight in any drawing-room!’

‘Not in this one.’

‘Why, you do look splendid in that frock. If I met you at a ball, I would never be able to tell the tempest that lies beneath the smooth surface.’

‘Save it. It’s not me you have to charm.’

‘Parents adore me.’

‘My parents don’t adore anyone except our eldest brother, Charles, who is Papa’s spitting image, because he’s the only one who followed in his footsteps, with the bank and all…’

‘I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite catch that over your wheezing.’

Charlotte stopped pacing.

‘Go,’ Alfred said.

‘No, I cannot.’

‘Why not?’

The doorbell rang.

‘You’ll see why in a minute,’ she said darkly and went to the foyer, where Wood had his hand on the knob.

‘Ready, ma’am?’ he asked.

‘Let’s just get this over with.’

Alfred sharpened his ears. He had been a witness to this kind of thing a million times. He had dozens of sisters, half-sisters, nieces, and as the Equerry to the Queen, he was surrounded by Ladies in Waiting all day, every day. And then there were endless balls, where he had danced with everybody who was anybody’s maiden daughters. He knew of the pressures. When he thought of his own Mama, whom he adored deeply, he remembered the sacrifices and risks she had to take to be with his father. Alfred would not have been born if it hadn’t been for them choosing love over society. The apple had not fallen far from the tree, he thought to himself somewhat amusedly, when he remembered dear Edward (hopefully) resting upstairs.

Tearing himself away from him was an ordeal in itself, after Charlotte had announced they had less than an hour to prepare and stormed out, expecting Alfred to follow.

‘Nooo!!! Don’t leave me! I need you here. I need your lips, your beautiful lips!’ Edward pleaded, desperately chasing Alfred around the room for more kisses.

‘I’m afraid I’ll have to take my lips with myself,’ Alfred explained to his adorably delirious Edward. ‘Your parents will be here so soon, my love.’

‘Who cares about my parents? They’re not the ones that want to kiss you.’

‘I should hope not!’ Alfred laughed. ‘Listen, my dearest, the sooner we get this over with, the sooner I can return to get you into your bed.’

‘My bed?’ Edward perked up, grabbing Alfred by his hips passionately. ‘Really?’

‘To tuck you in and help you rest!’ Alfred clarified with as much self-control as he had, though he liked this unabashed version of Edward thoroughly. ‘As you must, until you are feeling better.’

‘I feel fine!’

‘You have been wounded.’

‘I feel wonderful!’

‘What are you doing!?’

Edward had thrown off his ruined clothes, standing there in nothing but the bandages over his wounds.

‘I could make you feel wonderful, too!’

Alfred felt Edward’s hands everywhere.

‘Oh! Edward… Charlotte’s waiting downstairs…’

‘Stay for a bit… we’ll be quick…’

‘I have to go—the Palace—I have to change, it’s nearly breakfast…’

‘To hell with changing and breakfasting! I don’t want to live like that anymore! I don’t want to keep lying and serving Sir Robert, I don’t want to do what my parents say! Lothian can go hang! Let us elope and run away, like _Romeo and Juliet_!’

‘Darling, you know they died.’

‘We won’t! We’ll be happy! Forever! I know I will be, as long as I can hold you in my arms. Let’s tell everyone the truth!’

‘The truth!?’

‘And spend all our days together and naked and doing what we did when we did those things at night, and that thing we did that I did to you, you could do to me and—’

‘LORD ALFRED!? WHERE ARE YOU!?’ Charlotte shouted from downstairs and she did not sound happy.

Alfred exhaled and pried Edward’s hands off.

‘That sounds tempting, my love,’ he said, ‘but you must hold that thought. I would prefer to be with you with a clearer mind. I wouldn’t want you to forget a thing.’

‘Never!’ Edward breathed hotly, trying to get to Alfred’s skin. ‘I won’t bite… unless you want me to.’

When Charlotte caught Edward naked, with his hands down Alfred’s trousers, and leaving marks on his neck, only the next second, she stormed out and hardly listened to Alfred when he caught up with her on the stairs and tried to explain he was trying to get Edward back into bed.

‘Yes, I gathered that, thank you!’ she scolded him and stuffed a pair of light trousers in his hands.

‘Not like that!’ Alfred clarified, going red. ‘I meant…’

‘Spare me the details, please.’

‘Excuse him, he’s just…’

‘He’s gone mad.’

‘He’s just a bit…’

‘He’s out of control. Never seen him like this!’

‘It’s just the medicine. It’ll wear off.’

‘When?’

‘Not soon, not going to lie.’

‘Crikey, he must be locked in his room while our parents are here.’

‘You may be right.’

‘I am always right.’

‘What are these for, by the way?’ Alfred asked, checking out the trousers.

‘For wearing!’

‘By whom?’

‘You, of course! You can’t have breakfast with us in your eveningwear!’

‘Me? I am having breakfast with your parents!? Now?’

‘Naturally.’

‘But I’ve never—’

Charlotte rounded on Alfred like a general.

‘Edward is useless. Wood is distracted because he’s leaving to go frolicking across the seas with that ruddy Captain of yours, on which do not even get me started. If you think I am going to sit through an entire morning with my parents without any support, think again! You love my brother, don’t you?’

‘I do.’

‘Then, whether you like it or not, you are a part of this now and you will help. Starting with doing something about your hair. You know where to find the bathroom.’

And Alfred did so. He was the image of a perfect gentleman, as always, not showing a single sign of just what he had got up to in the course of the night. Twice.

But still, Charlotte was on the verge of a mental breakdown. In Alfred’s experience, ladies tended to be tense around their parents, but Miss Drummond’s behaviour was off the scale. He expected her head to be bitten off first thing when the dreaded moment came. Instead, a rather sweet voice sounded in juxtaposition with her words:

‘Charlotte! It is you! I thought a man was wearing your frock.’

‘Mama, hello. Papa…’

‘Good morning, Charlotte,’ a man said in the deep, self-assured voice that fitted one of the top bankers in the country superbly. ‘Don’t listen to your mother, you were named after me and you’ve inherited my fine shoulders. Do I smell bacon?’

‘Not your favourite kind, I’m afraid, but your visit’s at such short notice and…’

‘Hullo! Who is this handsome young man in Edward’s house?’

‘My house,’ Charlotte muttered.

‘What’s that? Speak up for heaven’s sake, girl,’ Mrs Drummond scolded her.

Meanwhile Alfred jumped on his feet as soon as the guests had entered. He wore his best smile, with which he could win over anyone who came to the court.

‘Mrs Drummond, Mr Drummond,’ he said, nodding politely. ‘Enchanté.’

‘Is he French?’

‘No, he’s, uh…’

‘I am Lord Alfred Paget, Her Majesty’s Chief Equerry.’

‘Paget?’ Mrs Drummond repeated. Funnily, the sweeter her tone was, the more menacing her words landed, somehow. ‘A Paget, in our drawing-room? Lovely! To what do we owe the honour, Charlotte?’

‘Lord Alfred was just visiting Edward. As you know, they work closely together.’

‘Very closely,’ Alfred emphasised, smiling through his offendedness. The number of times he heard his family name uttered like it brought social plague on one… he stood up taller.

‘Really?’ Mr Drummond responded. ‘How closely?’

‘Oh, you would not believe it!’

‘Are you partners?’

‘In a manner of speaking.’

‘Is he under you?’

‘That rather depends on the occasion.’

‘But where is he?’ Mrs Drummond cut in.

‘Indeed, where?’ Mr Drummond seconded. ‘Too busy to greet us downstairs? It is two whole minutes after our scheduled arrival. Time is money, he knows that. He’s my son after all, even if he did choose the softer option of politics.’

‘He is…’ Charlotte began.

‘Well, Drummond is…’ Alfred tried to help but he was just as unsure about how to broach the subject of the assassin.

‘Good morning!’ someone new said from the doorway, someone that Alfred’s tired eyes took for a human-sized meringue at first. Once one saw through the ruffles and bows, they could see a remarkably pretty blonde woman, who walked around the room like she owned it.

Like she owned it _already_.

‘Why, Charlotte, were you not expecting us?’ she asked, rearranging the pictures on the mantlepiece that Charlotte had just finished placing in just the right fashion.

‘Of course, I was, Florence,’ Charlotte replied tensely.

Alfred’s suspicions were confirmed. This was Lady Florence Kerr, who believed herself to be destined to marry Edward. Not on his watch, she would not!

‘That’s strange. You don’t seem like you have dressed for company,’ Florence quipped, throwing the green carnations on the fire without permission.

‘I put on a dress…’

‘From two summers ago? Tut, tut.’

Alfred mouthed “You look fine” to her but the new queen controlled the room.

‘What an interesting hairstyle, too!’ Florence chattered on.

‘I didn’t do anything special to it,’ Charlotte stated.

‘Oh. Perhaps that’s it.’

‘Ugh, you!’

‘Now, now, Charlotte,’ Mrs Drummond piped up sickly sweetly to mask her girl’s rising temper. ‘It is no secret you have not been blessed with manageable hair.’

‘I cannot help it’s curly!’

‘We are not deaf, Charlotte.’

‘I thought you wanted me to speak up!’

‘Silence! And next time, remember to have your brother present when entertaining bachelors. Even, or especially if it is a Paget.’

Charlotte shot Alfred a dark look, and he understood why she had dreaded this visit so. But it was at that second that he spotted a pair of bare buttocks whizz past the door in the foyer and his eyes went wide.

‘Edward!’ he blurted out.

By a stroke of luck, Wood was just emerging from the kitchen and ushered Edward into the smoking-room before anyone could have seen him. Bless his talents for averting a crisis.

But as for Alfred, he had all eyes on himself.

‘Edward, uh, he, uh… he has handsomely curly hair, too! It is very _a la mode_. It suits him so well. Don’t you think?’

Florence blinked at him rapidly. ‘You know him? Did I hear right you were a Paget?’

Alfred flushed uncomfortably. Florence looked at him rather intrigued, from head to toe.

‘I am, ma’am.’

‘I didn’t realise Pagets were as handsome as their reputation… colourful,’ she said with a smirk. Well, she didn’t mind his family history. On the contrary.

‘Lord Alfred,’ he introduced himself uncomfortably. ‘Pleasure to see you again, Lady Florence. I believe we met at Lady Cecilia’s ball.’

‘Ah, yes, of course! I knew I knew you from somewhere,’ Florence quipped, just a tad less enthusiastic about him. ‘You’re in luck. Our funny mutual friend is just getting out of the carriage.’

‘Sorry?’ Charlotte asked, and the next second, she found herself in the same room with the woman she loved and her parents, for the first time ever. ‘Cecilia!’

‘Miss Drummond,’ Cecilia greeted her happily. ‘Or are we on a first-name basis?’

‘I uh…’

‘What was your name again? I forget.’

‘It’s Charlotte.’

‘Oh, right, of course! Charlotte. Pretty.’

Charlotte knew that smile. It was warm for her, yes, but there was something else in there, something that normally excited her but with her breakfast guests and having to fess up to some shocking news, it worried her.

It was mischief. Always mischief.

‘How come you…? You never said… That is to say, my parents’ note never said you’d come along, Lady Cecilia!’

‘Are you not glad to see me? I hear you paint. I thought I could be your next muse. Or has that position already been filled?’

‘Of—of course, I am glad to have you!’ Charlotte stammered, trying not to picture her lover naked in the moonlight just a few hours prior.

‘Good! And of course, I came. A little bird told me Mr and Mrs Drummond were calling on the famous and elusive Edward Drummond on this bright morning, and I thought Lady Florence was bound to be a part of this, and lo and behold, she is! I pulled some strings, overtipped a gardener or two, until she got my message and was kind enough to let me tag along. I brought her a present as an olive branch after the mouse-in-the-bonnet joke at the ball. Sorry about that again.’

Florence tutted disgustedly but said: ‘I suppose everyone deserves a second chance. Even if we did get off on the wrong foot.’

Cecilia flashed her a smile and Charlotte was certain she had a mouse up her sleeve. Literally, another mouse. Probably.

‘I must say, what a lovely house!’ Cecilia chatted.

‘Haven’t you ever been here before, Lady Cecilia?’ Alfred asked as if they were on stage.

‘I might have!’ Cecilia quipped brightly, relishing in the lie going over some heads. ‘This library does seem familiar. Oh, yes, I remember now. I came here for poetry recital.’

‘Poetry? I adore poetry. Why wasn’t I invited?’

‘It was just for us girls,’ Cecilia said with the shadow of a wink sent his way, which cracked him up. ‘Jokes aside, I just had a feeling you might be glad to have some more friends around the table, Miss Drummond. For support.’

Charlotte mouthed a “Thank you” to Cecilia before addressing the room a lot more calmly now.

‘I, uh, please, everyone, take a seat.’

‘Where’s Edward?’ Florence demanded impatiently, taking the best seat in the room like she took her rightful throne in the house she expected to reign over one day.

The doorbell rang again.

‘Brought any more surprise guests for me, Mama?’ Charlotte asked through gritted teeth.

‘I know nothing of this,’ Mrs Drummond replied.

Wood appeared from the smoking room and soon brought in a short man with a large moustache and a large notebook and another with a heavy box Alfred recognised as a device for taking one’s image. Golly, the last thing that was needed was this morning to be immortalised in any way, shape, or form.

‘And who are you?’ Charlotte demanded tensely. ‘I warn you, gentlemen, we’ve only so many seats around the breakfast table.’

‘I do apologise for the intrusion, Miss Drummond,’ the short man said loudly and straightforwardly and licked his pencil. ‘We won’t take up much of your time. We are from the Times. We have come to know that Mr Drummond has been shot by a bullet saving you from a burglar?’

‘Excuse me!?’ Mr Drummond exclaimed.

‘WHAT?’ Florence, too.

‘Is this true, Charlotte!?’ Mrs Drummond asked, not at all sweetly now.

Even Cecilia was surprised, and that was a rarity.

‘ _Is_ it true, Charlotte?’ she asked, most excitedly. ‘Alfred?’

‘He wasn’t saving me, he was saving Lord Alfred,’ Charlotte admitted. ‘And it wasn’t a burglar,’ she told the journalists. ‘Some ruffian broke in looking for Sir Robert to assassinate. Got the wrong house—he must be challenged in the head. He’s been arrested since. My brother is fine, he thanks you, but he is in no fit state to talk about it at present. He hasn’t even given the police his own account. A doctor has tended to him and he will make a full recovery. That’s all I will say. Wood, see out the gentlemen and do not let any more people in here under any circumstances—’

The doorbell rang again.

‘Who is it this time!?’ Charlotte groaned.

The doorbell rang again and four knocks sounded. That could only mean one thing.

‘Oop! It’s for me!’ Edward sounded from the smoking-room and Wood rushed there to hold the doorknob firmly in place. Charlotte instantly panicked to the point of breathlessness, supported by Cecilia. Alfred stepped into the foyer and opened the front door.

‘Sir Robert.’

‘Oh, hullo! Don’t bother, Lord Alfred, the inspectors told me everything,’ the PM said without ado, taking off his hat and his coat.

He went ahead and hanged them on his usual hook by the umbrellas without assistance. He was here so often he felt at home. Evidently, this house was an open intersection for everyone in London! No wonder Charlotte was unnerved, even without the parental visit. Alfred understood now. To think he had actually felt safe and private coming here the night before!

‘The story is incredible,’ Sir Robert spoke, quite worked up about it all. ‘I feel responsible. Poor Drummond, hurt because of me? If anything had happened to him, I’d never have been able to forgive myself. He is like a son to me. A son! They said my son was here, too? William? In England!? They say you know him?’

‘In passing,’ Alfred muttered, put on the spot.

‘All his life he has never mentioned you two—'

‘Please do go in the drawing room, Sir Robert,’ Alfred suggested as smoothly as possible but he was really feeling the air thicken as much as if he had also been wearing a corset. ‘Breakfast will be served very soon and we will tell you everything from first to last.’

‘I don’t have time to sit. My resignation is due any day now but you’ll know about that, I daresay you’ll be present for it. I just want to shake Drummond’s hand and I’ll be off. I assume he is not fit to come into the office for some time.’

A loud meowing and a crash sounded from the smoking room.

‘If you could just wait here in the drawing-room, Sir Robert. I must check on Drummond. He is a tad fragile indeed. We won’t be a minute. Mister-uh-Journalist, this is Sir Robert Peel about to resign! What a story! Go.’

While the journalists pounced on the troubled PM, Alfred snuck into the smoking-room with Wood to find a very naked and very comfortable Edward by the fire. The cat was purring on his bare chest.

‘It must be so simple to be a cat,’ he was saying. ‘One never has to bathe or change or answer to the law. Have you ever wanted to be a cat, Alfred?’

‘Right now, I should love the earth to swallow me whole,’ Alfred said, more to himself than anyone else. ‘My darling, Edward, what are you doing? I told you to stay in bed.’

‘I did but then it was boring,’ Edward shrugged, wincing as his shoulder pained him. ‘There was no Alfred in my bed. Thought I’d come find you. Are you wearing my trousers?’

Alfred went red in the presence of the butler, who grabbed a tartan blanket to try and preserve Drummond’s modesty.

Alfred held out his arm. ‘Please, Edward, you must return upstairs and get dressed. There are a lot of guests in this house who cannot see you like this, gorgeous as you are.’

‘Who’s here?’

‘Your parents, and they brought Florence, and a pair of journalists showed up, as has Sir Robert himself, and Cecilia.’

‘Cecilia? I know Cecilia. She’s my sister’s lover,’ Edward said in a stage whisper. ‘My sister has a _lady lover_. I had no idea but apparently it’s for the best we’ve come clean. And I agree. Truth will out.’

‘Quite,’ Alfred lied, wishing the truth would stay in for now. ‘Now, why don’t you go upstairs and think about this there? Wood, draw him a bath, please. A cold one.’

‘If you could come with me through the secret passageway, Mr Drummond,’ Wood pleaded.

‘And you,’ Edward pointed out, suddenly keen on stating more truths. ‘You lay with Captain William Peel. In my house. Can’t stand that man. He used to go after Alfred. _My_ Alfred.’

‘I know, sir,’ Wood said with superhuman patience. ‘I’m sure a bath would help you forget.’

‘You’re fond of him, too, aren’t you? What is it about him?’

‘Mr Drummond…’

‘Really? Is it the cocky smirk? The vulgar quips? Is it the ship? I can buy a ship. I can buy ten ships! What was it about him, Alfred? What did you do in Paris?’

‘I was just… young and…’

‘Young and foolish, I know, I know, but you need more than that. You saw something in him and, given how different I am, you probably don’t see that something in me, which means you’ll just get bored of me and leave me one day and…’

Alfred knelt to support Edward. ‘ _Au contraire_. I see everything in you that I never saw in him, Edward. Never,’ he reassured him, hoping it got through. ‘He doesn’t care half as deeply about people as you do. Aside from one thing. …Sorry, Wood,’ Alfred added in panic. ‘I only said that because…’

The butler spoke a lot more firmly now: ‘Mr Drummond, you must come and lie down. For your health. Doctor’s orders.’

It worked, Edward stood, though he didn’t let go of the cat.

‘I’m going to marry Alfred one day, you know,’ he told Wood proudly. Alfred stood nervously between him and the windows. ‘I am. And I want you to be my best man. You won’t judge, will you, Wood?’

‘I will not. It would be an honour, sir. On one condition.’

‘Oh?’

‘That you follow me upstairs, sir.’

The cat meowed and Edward listened as if he was privy to cat language beyond the average person.

‘Very well,’ he decided after consulting Sir Fluff. ‘Will Alfred come with me?’

‘I’ll be there in a minute,’ Alfred promised anxiously.

‘In the bath?’

‘Yes! Yes, in the bath. You _must_ wait for me there. It is very, very important that you get in the bathtub and do not leave it until I send away Florence and come and get you. Can you do that for me, please?’

Edward flashed him a smile and he was skipping upstairs so fast Wood could barely keep up.

Alfred exhaled and returned to the drawing-room, where Florence was basking in fame, more than happy to talk to the journalists and to have her picture taken. He took advantage of that and pulled his friends aside.

‘We must get them out of the house,’ Alfred whispered to Charlotte. ‘Or at least get them into breakfast. Now.’

‘But where’s Wood?’ Charlotte asked.

‘He can’t come. Edward must be kept at bay. He won’t stop speaking the truth.’

‘God, that’s the last thing we need!’

‘Precisely.’

‘But who will serve?’

‘I’ve no idea! You figure it out, since it was your brilliant idea to let the doctor give him opiates!’

Charlotte and Alfred were at a loss. It was better that Wood was with Edward to prevent him wandering. But they couldn’t pour tea, nor could the cook or the maids.

‘I have an idea,’ Cecilia said and turned to the guests at large. ‘Ahem, ahem. Surprise, everyone! We shall have a picnic in the garden. Like tea but it’s a breakfast! We shall have all the food brought up at once and pick whatever we like and eat it wherever we like. This way, we won’t waste this marvellous morning sunshine. It’ll be such fun! Come, come, yes, you, too, Sir Robert! Oh! Have you been doing more sports lately? Your arm! Come, Florence, think of all the photographs you can have taken in this most flattering sunlight!’

Charlotte was eternally grateful for her girlfriend’s charisma. Without her, the morning would have been a disaster. Within minutes, their clueless guests were eating and drinking in the garden. Mr and Mrs Drummond were bursting with pride as the tale of Edward’s heroism was blown up so magnificently that it would make headline news by the evening print.

For this purpose, the journalists left as soon as they got enough for a story.

‘I really must go,’ Sir Robert announced, too. ‘The House awaits. Thank you for the coffee. I wish Drummond a speedy recovery. I might visit soon. Do send a note. Um, Lord Alfred, if you see… tell him that I…’

‘I will,’ Alfred replied knowingly.

He was always careful around the PM, thinking about him first and foremost as William’s frightful father who would happily see his own son in the pillory. Sir Robert had no idea that Drummond, whom he regarded as his own son, was even more important to Lord Alfred in a way that the statesman would never accept. Because of Edward, however, Alfred began to warm to the man and saw no reason why he couldn’t respect him even if he didn’t respect his views. Edward had his reasons. And Alfred loved Edward.

He loved him, but he really, really, really loved him when he appeared on the balcony overlooking the garden and called out.

‘HEY! FLORENCE!’ Edward said freely. He was bathed and dressed in a new robe and still cradling the cat. ‘ARE YOU STILL HERE?’

‘Edward!’ Florence beamed and stood under the window, like a reverse balcony scene from _Romeo and Juliet_. ‘There is my handsome fiancée!’

‘Pfft! I AM NOT YOUR FIANCEE!’

Florence laughed awkwardly and blinked rapidly up at him.

‘But my dearest Edward, come down and stop talking nonsense.’

‘It’s not nonsense! NO PROPOSAL, NO ENGAGEMENT, NO MARRIAGE!’

‘Edward!? What is the matter with you?’

‘I AM IN LOVE!’

 _Ah, so, this was what a heart attack felt like_ , though Alfred, watching and frozen mid-drinking his coffee.

‘Oh, Edward!’ Florence smiled self-assuredly. ‘That’s so lovely—'

‘SO GET OUT OF HERE AND LEAVE ME IN PEACE!’

Florence’s smile was wiped right off. ‘Sorry?!’

‘Edward, what is the meaning of this!?’ his father demanded.

‘YOU TOO, MAMA, PAPA. ENOUGH OF THE LIES! ENOUGH OF THIS CHARADE! TELL LOTHIAN ADIEU! MY LOVE!!! _MY LOVE_ WILL DESTROY HIM IF HE OBJECTS. WITH THE TRUTH! AND THE TRUTH IS THAT I DON’T WANT TO HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH HIM OR FLORENCE—although you do have your moments and I care deeply about you but just as a friend, Florence, as a _friend_ , and I will never love you, and I know for a fact that I never kissed you behind the bushes at grandmama’s, I think that was my brother Berkeley.’

‘You kissed Berkeley!?’ Charlotte piped up despite herself. ‘He’s married!’

‘Only when we were children!’ Florence squeaked in panic. ‘Edward, my dearest—’

‘AND CHARLOTTE,’ Edward continued. ‘IF YOU WANT TO PAINT YOUR LADIES, PAINT YOUR LADIES. I WILL PERSONALLY VOUCH FOR YOU, AND PAY FOR YOUR LESSONS, AND PROTECT YOU AND I’LL BUY YOU A GALLERY IF I MUST, WHICH, MAMA, PAPA, YOU ARE WELCOME TO VISIT WHEN YOU DEVELOP A BETTER TASTE THAN THAT VASE YOU SENT US, WHICH BY THE WAY IS BROKEN, THANK HEAVENS. By Charlotte!’ Edward added in a stage whisper. ‘Charlotte broke it. No one else.’

He winked theatrically at Cecilia, who was cackling to the point of snorting. She was also patting Charlotte on the back, who, while secretly grateful, was groaning into the palm of her hands.

‘AND I WILL SMOKE,’ Edward went on because Florence was still standing there and the longer she was there, the later he got his Alfred back. ‘I WILL! ALL THE CHEROOTS I WANT. IN FACT,’ he said, taking one out and lighting it with his tinderbox on the balcony. He inhaled and exhaled languidly and defiantly.

‘Stop this, Edward,’ Florence demanded furiously. ‘You’re making a spectacle of yourself!’

In response, Edward lit another one and smoked two cheroots, three, four, at a time, and even stuck one in his ear.

Florence gave up. She was so embarrassed she stormed out, followed by Mr and Mrs Drummond.

All that was left was to laugh. Cecilia’s fault, her laughing fit was infectious. She even applauded Edward (letting a mouse escape her sleeve indeed). He who took a bow, cat and cheroots and all.

‘Now can I have Alfred back, please?’ he asked.

Alfred went upstairs and put him to bed and they both slept through the day like angels after the eventful night.

Wood was found drenched and tied to the leg of the bathtub, poor man. Edward had things to say and he would not be stifled. And he wasn’t. Somehow, he managed to thwart that marriage without Alfred’s help just fine. Florence would read about her almost fiancé, the hero, by dinnertime, by which time Edward was back to normal and completely mortified at his own actions.

‘Do not look at me, I cannot bear it!’ he groaned after his well-deserved nap and Alfred filling him in on all the events of the morning that were coming back to him.

‘I’m sorry, but you did!’ Alfred laughed, so relieved now that it was all over. ‘Florence ran away in tears! Cecilia didn’t even get to play a joke on her, though I think Sir Fluff enjoyed chasing that mouse down the mews.’

‘What will Sir Robert say?!’

‘Just what everyone is saying. That you are a hero. Which you are. No one else needs to know anything more. And they won’t. That assassin’s being treated as a lunatic. He will get off scot-free, which he should not, but this way his words will not be believed, no matter what he says he saw in or around this house while he was lurking. We are safe. From him. For now.’

Edward fought off his embarrassment and sat up in bed to be closer to Alfred.

‘Careful,’ Alfred fretted, adjusting his cushions for him.

‘Thank you.’

‘Does it hurt?’

‘Rather this than walking around my house naked like a fool.’

‘So you don’t want to spend all your days naked, after all? Like you said?’

‘Oh, crikey, did I really say that!?’

Alfred smiled. ‘You said a great many things. Do you remember?’

‘Like what? Oh, God, I must apologise to Wood! Profusely! No wonder he wants to leave my service.’

‘I already talked to him. No grudges but he will sail. For the adventure, I suppose, if this night’s not been enough for him. You know, you may not be a fan of William but who knows? They may be happy. Anyway, it wasn’t them you were talking about either.’

‘But what else did I say? How else did I embarrass myself?’

‘It was nothing embarrassing, my love. It was something outrageous but very agreeable, I thought.’

Edward frowned, racking his mind. Alfred’s heart was beating wildly in his chest, willing Edward to remember.

‘Do you remember… talking about marriage?’

Edward sighed. ‘I was so scared we’d be discovered and that I’d have to marry Florence...’

‘No, you were not talking about Florence.’

Edward listened.

‘You… you said… you wanted to…’ Alfred stuttered, surprised at his own bashfulness. ‘Edward, you kept saying you wanted to marry me and spend your life with me.’

‘Did I? Edward asked, eyes wide.

‘Well, yes. You really don’t recall that?’ Alfred asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

‘Crikey! I must have been out of my mind to propose that!’

‘Well, of course, you…. You were just being silly, you weren’t in your right mind, exactly. I completely… How silly of me to… I mean, it would be ridiculous, it would be absurd… Why are you laughing? Seriously, do I have something on my face?’

Edward fought off his giggles.

‘You are adorable, did you know that?’ Edward said fondly.

‘Why so now in particular?’

‘Well, Alfred, for a friend of Lady Cecilia’s, you can be awfully gullible,’ he said, and his intelligent brown eyes sparked with mischief.

Alfred’s heart skipped a beat and warmth filled him from head to toe.

‘You _do_ remember?’

‘Of course, I remember, Alfred. I remember it all. I only wish I had had the courage to ask before I was given the medication. I hoped the proposal would be more graceful when I imagined it.’

‘Wait, so… did you… did you…’

‘Did I mean it?’ Edward asked, turning more serious. ‘I did. I do. I know it would have to be a private commitment and I know we have become what we are only last night. But I cannot imagine my life without you. I want you to determine my future. I love you. And in my world, the person I love and share myself with should be my wedded spouse. I don’t care that it’s absurd or that it is not legally binding. Your word would be enough.’

‘My word?’

Edward took Alfred’s hands in his. Big breath.

‘ _Amen, amen. But come what sorrow can,’_ he recited so earnestly Alfred was pale and speechless. _‘It cannot countervail the exchange of joy that one short minute gives me in your sight. Do thou but close our hands with holy words, then love-devouring death do what he dare; It is enough I may but call you mine._ So? Will you marry me, Alfred? Or at least, will you consider yourself married to me?’

Edward got his answer in the form of a warm and earnest kiss.

‘Is that a yes?’

His voice eluding him, Alfred nodded.

‘Will you really?’

‘I will.’

Edward quite forgot about his shoulder, he was too busy kissing the love of his life.

‘Shame we cannot have a ceremony,’ he lamented, though he was overjoyed to the point of tears. ‘My social circle does not extend to any sympathetic friars who would wed us in secret.’

Alfred laughed and then he had an idea.

‘Well, fortunately, I happen to know a navy captain that could be prevailed upon to officiate.’

Once the penny dropped, Edward’s outrage was such that it took a few days to convince him. In the end, they caught the ship just in time before it sailed east. William, albeit begrudgingly, married them at midnight in the presence of Wood, Edward’s best man and no longer butler, and Charlotte and Cecilia, who threw so much rice on the deck William threatened that they’d have to clean it up themselves. His ship, his rules. There was a lot of champagne and a beautiful sunrise over the Thames.

William sent them a wedding present from India: a suggestively shaped vase painted with illustrations of men from a book he called _Kama Sutra_ in his letter. They decided it could absolutely not replace the broken one in the library, else Sir Robert might have fainted when he dropped by. Perhaps that was what William intended. In the following years, he also made a habit of sending Edward and Alfred fertility statues from distant countries totally unfit to put on display. The collection of well-endowed figurines was well hidden in Edward’s _en suite_. Alfred worried this was out of a grudge at first, but according to Wood’s letters, they were very happy. When Alfred moved into Drummond’s house permanently, he promoted his valet to be their butler, who remained their faithful confidante for the decades to come.

Florence never spoke to Edward again. When Lothian bothered him, Alfred happened to be there to warn him about some debtors and the marquess fled the scene with his tail between his legs.

They didn’t need to buy Charlotte a gallery, she became quite renowned in her circle of famed artists of the day. No one suspected her private life was full of worries about the woman who mischievously stole her heart. Alfred didn’t insist but when push came to shove, he began to make appearances with Cecilia as much as he could, even if his toes paid the price for it. Let them talk. If it came to marriage, they would cross that bridge when and if they had to. As the years passed, however, and Cecilia successfully entered official spinsterhood, the pressure on her to marry was less and less. She moved into the country with Charlotte, close to the Pagets in Anglesey, who became their adopted family.

Their arrangements were never discussed with any sort of drama. One year, Lady Anglesey simply sent Alfred and Edward a joint invitation for Christmas and forgot to arrange a separate bedroom, and that was that.

Whenever Edward was asked why he never married, he would simply say he was in love with someone already married to a man. No one ever noticed that his good friend, Lord Alfred, tended to give the very same answer.

It was on Edward’s 50th birthday that chance would so have it that Alfred pulled _Romeo and Juliet_ out of the hat during a game of Charades. Although Charlotte and Cecilia insisted they scored more points, the gents felt the victory was theirs for they got to act out the full kiss scene and did it justice at last. All was well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this until the end! We have made it this far but it is time to send them all on their way to sail the seas...


	13. Keys (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months of pining, a night of passion, and an elopement aboard a ship. But when it comes to Christmas, Edward and Alfred's engagements keep them apart. Not forever, or so they hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I caved in. This is a fluffy Christmasy epilogue. Hardly any plot but enjoy. We all need more fluff in our lives.

‘Six shillings say there will be a new engagement by Christmas Day in the Palace.’

Everyone looked at Brody, the hall young hall boy, who just rejoined the Palace staff for breakfast. Just as he feared, all the toast had gone cold while he was upstairs.

‘Haven’t got any fresh ones, I s’ppose?’ he asked and earned another wave of nasty looks from his higher-ranking colleagues.

‘If I were in your position, and I once was,’ Penge, the page of the backstairs croaked patronisingly from his throne at the top of the table, ‘I would be grateful for the little I had and use this moment to vow to aspire to advance. And we do not gamble… not before noon.’

‘Is that a rule, Mr Penge?’

‘It is now.’

‘Don’t worry, Mr Penge,’ Francatelli, the chef spoke up from the doorway where he lingered as usual, to gawk at a certain blonde lady’s maid. ‘He hasn’t got six shillings.’

‘I do too!’ Brody insisted with a full mouth of buttered toast.

‘Who was it that came to call?’ Skerrett asked once everyone stopped joking and mocking the hall boy. ‘Is that why you say there will be an engagement?’

‘Hardly!’ Brody said, and upon Mr Penge’s murderous glare, swallowed his mouthful heartily. ‘It was only Mr Drummond.’

Some of the female staff had a giggle at the mention of the fine and handsome Mr Edward Drummond. They stopped only when shushed by Penge.

‘Mr Drummond? This early in the day?’ Skerrett inquired.

‘Came for some private business meeting with his lordship.’

‘Lord Alfred?’

‘Who else?’

‘Now, now, now,’ Mr Penge cut in. ‘It is not up to us to involve ourselves in the affairs of the lords and ladies upstairs.’

‘Business or otherwise?’ Francatelli remarked and Skerrett nearly spat out her tea for laughing.

‘SILENCE!’ the page ordered but the chef had vanished.

‘Don’t fear us, Mr Penge. I don’t mind Mr Drummond, me,’ Brody chatted between hearty mouthfuls of eggs.

Danny Wilson, Lord Alfred’s valet finally joined them too. The kitchen-maid brought him fresh toast, served with a helping of fluttering eyelashes, as the new footman, Joseph looked on with jealousy.

‘Mr Drummond?’ Wilson said rather pompously. ‘I don’t believe he is yours to mind. Clearly not enough to show him up all the way to Lord Alfred’s suite, I noticed.’

Brodie gulped on his breakfast, found out.

‘Is this true, Brodie!?’ Penge grumbled.

‘Mr Drummond is meeting Lord Alfred in his private quarters?’ Skerrett asked.

She may not have meant to stir trouble but that’s exactly what she did. Wilson cleared his throat with dignity.

‘If you must know,’ he said, ‘Mr Drummond is a very busy man, being the Prime Minister's Senior Private Secretary, therefore his and his lordship’s meeting is to be quite brief. Besides, it requires the presentation of several of His Lordship's files folders, the transportation of which to a downstairs room he wanted to spare us.’

‘He didn’t mind us lugging the tub up to his room and back at the crack of dawn,’ Joseph remarked nastily.

‘Well, his lordship can hardly have a bath in a drawing-room, can he?’ Wilson retorted.

Another bout of giggles was shushed by Penge.

‘Like I said, Mr Drummond’s not the bad sort,’ Brodie said defensively to the valet privately. ‘He’s not like the rest of them. He always has a kind word for us.’

‘Not to mention a generous tip,’ Wilson replied with a secret smile, so the hall boy knew they were at peace again.

Upstairs, Edward’s pocket was indeed lighter as he made his way down beautiful halls, but he was ever so grateful for the hall boy who had taken his coat first thing upon arrival. He had come from the rain and snow of London in December and he didn’t want to make his lover shiver from his wet clothes and freezing nose when he kissed him.

Because he kissed him as soon as he was in his private apartment and the door was locked with a key.

‘Good morning,’ he whispered against Lord Alfred’s lips, feeling warm at once.

‘Good morning, my dearest,’ Alfred cooed back, all smiles. ‘Your nose is as cold as ice!’ he lamented, placing a soft kiss on the tip. ‘Come, have some tea. It’s still hot.’

Alfred poured for them both before they had even sat down. Knowing he did not need to be careful of etiquette when it was just them, Edward accepted the cup without a saucer and melted up soon enough.

‘Better?’

‘It’s heavenly, thank you.’

‘Can you believe the weather? I find I have to light all the candles even in the daytime!’

‘Yes, it’s mad!’ Edward agreed, sipping his tea gladly. 'The coachman could hardly trudge through the streets in the snow that had fallen overnight. I had the feeling I could have got here faster on foot if only I'd had my skiing equipment. And I have to read by candlelight by three in the afternoon.'

‘Hm, I wish the nights stretching meant longer nights with you… Hullo, have I made you blush?’

‘Must be the steam of the tea…

‘Of course, it must,’ Alfred flirted, not believing it for a second.

‘What are these?’ Edward asked elusively, turning to the pile of papers and folders that accompanied the luxurious assortment of breakfast foods and condiments.

‘Do you want to be let in on a secret?’

‘Always.’

‘Absolutely nothing.’

‘Sorry?’

‘They are just for show. We are supposed to be having a business meeting, are we not? Look, there is absolutely nothing written on the pages. This is just some old notes for my tailor and my scrap paper collection for sketching.’

Edward flipped through the folders finding no content indeed, which amused him very much.

‘That’s a clever touch, but,’ he said, glancing around to search for secret servants' doorways. ‘Why the need? I thought this was a private apartment.'

‘My dearest, you do not imagine I rolled out of bed like this!’ Alfred laughed, twirling around for show. ‘Before you came, I had housemaids in here, footmen to draw me a bath and then take the tub away, and then my valet to dress me and, presumably, a page boy showed you upstairs.’

‘I was given instructions after the staircase.’

‘Were you? The nerve! I bet you still tipped him well.’

‘What is “well”?’

‘Oh, you… The point is that I wanted to be ready to receive you in the nicest fashion possible and to look my best for you.’

‘You always look glowing to me, day and night. Even—especially, when you just rolled out of my bed.’

It was Alfred’s turn to blush. He could never get used to the compliments and the earnestness with which Edward delivered them, even after months of blissful marriage.

They called it a marriage, but they had to squeeze private rendezvous in their tight schedules like they were strangers. For that reason, Alfred took Edward’s cup and stepped into his arms to play with his cravat.

‘It is perfectly private for the next hour or so…’ he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

Edward, who presumed he would simply breakfast with his love, felt his blood rush out of his head and into other realms.

‘But the b-breakfast… I mean the staff… the queen… we haven’t much time…’ he stuttered but Alfred fluttered his eyelashes in that charming way.

Edward bit his bottom lip but the dimples appeared soon enough and he broke out in a smile.

An hour later, he was still licking jam off Alfred’s buttocks as a way to wind down from the rushed passion of the morning. Alfred bit his pillow to stifle giggles as Edward kissed a trail up his back and shoulders and nested in the noon of his neck.

‘I had no idea you had such a sweet tooth.’

‘Cream first,’ Edward said, placing a sloppy kiss on Alfred’s fair skin, ‘Jam on top.’

Edward had to shush Alfred, but they laughed and wrestled and kissed until they were fully come down from the rush of an impromptu liaison. Alfred brushed a curl out of his lover’s eyes, who squinted as a sharp ray of sunlight just found his eyes.

‘Look at that!’ Edward rejoiced blindly. ‘The blizzard’s gone! How lovely!’

‘Lovely indeed,’ Alfred agreed without a care for the weather – he had eyes only for Edward. Alas, a grandfather clock in the hallway rang the hour. ‘God, already? I suppose you have things to do.’

‘About a million,’ Edward lamented, hanging his head. ‘Most days I am overcome with daydreams filled with you and I wear a ditsy grin on my face even as I walk the halls of the House. I tell people I am simply thrilled because my horse won some race or other. They might believe I have a gambling problem… But I don’t care. This is the last opportunity to see you before you go to Windsor and I shall have to go without you for three whole weeks.’

Alfred sighed sadly. ‘The Queen does love her Christmas castle. And Prince Albert loves Christmas full stop.’

‘They obviously adore you, too, that they require your service throughout the holidays.’

‘You are welcome to petition Her Majesty if you’ve a complaint.’

‘That would be quite the letter!’ Edward cracked up. ‘Please, Your Majesty, I believe Lord Alfred Paget’s talents would be better used in my bed rather than under the Christmas tree at Windsor, though a gift he may be indeed. I have the honour to be your obedient—’ Edward was cut off by a warm kiss.

They eventually had to dress and smoothen the room so as to make it seem as if there was only a lengthy breakfast taking place in the rooms, nothing else. Nothing to see here. Edward gobbled down a couple of stale toasts for this purpose – with only butter as he had used up all the jam.

‘Wait,’ Alfred stopped him before he unlocked the door.

‘I really must go, Alfred,’ Edward reminded him sadly. ‘I am frightfully late from Sir Robert as it is. Again.’

‘I won’t be a second,’ Alfred said and popped into the bedroom to get a small box. ‘It’s not Christmas yet, but I thought it would be better to give it to you sooner rather than later.’

‘What is it?’

‘Uh-uh! You must wait until Christmas morning – Charlotte will be my eyes and ears - and think of me when you open it.’

Edward, though suspicious, pocketed the present and promised to wait.

‘You will get your present upon your return. It would have to be given to you at mine,’ Edward confessed, with a grin that gave Alfred ideas to keep him musing all throughout the Windsor stay.

***

‘Good grief, not crying again?’ Charlotte chastised Edward again and again on Christmas Day. Edward had been awfully emotional ever since he had opened the present from Alfred, which contained a little locket with a lock of his gorgeous blond hair. Edward had asked for it to no avail for months and months and Alfred finally gave in. It was a beautiful locket, too, in which he placed it, along with the paraphrased quote from _Romeo and Juliet_ , “ _And thus with a kiss, I come alive_ ”.

A couple of weeks later, Alfred had barely got out of the carriage upon the royal entourage’s return from Windsor that he hopped on Horace and rode to Edward’s house for his present.

‘Now, what can you have for me that can only be exchanged in your private residence?’ Alfred flirted, ready to tear off Edward’s clothes the second he got permission, though his hands were still cold from riding across London in the cold. He longed to be warmed indeed and did not hide it a bit. Charlotte will have to wear earplugs or go for a long walk. Alfred was not leaving Edward’s arms until he got his promised present. He was ready for anything Edward had in store for him.

Edward smirked, titillating Alfred’s fancies to the maximum. But what he came out with was a box similarly small in size as the one that held the locket.

‘Well! What might this be?’ Alfred asked and opened it.

Alfred hoped it would be a locket to match his but it was not. It was a key. A rather plain, worn, chunky key. His eyebrows shot upwards but he tried his best to stay good-humoured for Edward. ‘Well… this is… charming.’

‘Do you know what it is?’

‘A… key. I have seen them used before, you know, they’re not exactly a modern invention,’ Alfred joked.

‘It is not just any key. It is the key to this house.’

Alfred’s scepticism vanished at once and his heart swelled.

‘You mean… I can come and go as I please?’

‘Yes, and no,’ Edward replied bashfully.

‘No, because Charlotte might murder me?’

‘She knows about this, fear not. No. No, because I was hoping you would use it for more than just visits whenever you like. I was hoping you might take up residence here permanently.’

‘You mean… you mean I should live here? At yours?’

‘ _With_ me.'

Alfred’s eyes went wide and soft.

‘Only if it is something you want,’ Edward clarified anxiously.

‘My dear, Edward, of course, I want it! It would make me the happiest man in the world! But how are we going to pull it off? It seems so impossible.’

‘I have considered that,’ Edward replied and went into explanations on how to make the transition, a very gradual one that would be completed over months and months. By the time they would have completed it all, it would be time to find Christmas presents again. Alfred raised doubts at every turn to test him but eventually, he ran out of questions and agreed that it would be doable.

‘Did you devise this marvellous plan just so that we could spend Christmas together next year?’ was the last point he raised.

Edward, instead of delving into excuses, took him to bed to welcome him home properly.


End file.
